Novissimo - Last Stand
by Kadyn
Summary: (Book Two) I can feel him watching me. Revulsion twist my insides, fear threatening to blot out my ability to think. I push it down, there's no time for that, not if we want to live. "So how's a pretty thing like you survive out there without a group?" I glare back at him ignoring Chris's leer. "Easy" I tell him "Always make sure your the biggest monster in the room." Daryl/Fin
1. Preface

**Disclaimer: **Muhahahaha! - clearly this is my way of expressing the insanity I will use as my number one defense when AMC drags me to court! I don't own them people, even after 600 pages…drats! O_o

**Notes:** If you opened this story and have not read "Occasio Ultima" then: _**STOP! ** _Back away from this story or you will blow the huge surprise in that one! Don't Do it! Seriously; that's like jumping into the movie half-way through; you'll be mucho confused! :D Go read OU first, the rest of us will wait, I promise.

To those of you who have been waiting: IT'S BACK! Here's the Preface! Which really should be Chapter One…but it's not…so yeah…that will make uploading future chapters…interesting… :P

Read/Review/PM all feedback is loved and appreciated! You guys are awesome! : )

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**Preface**

_(Daryl's POV)_

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It's too fucking late for Carl to get away.

He realizes it the same instant Rick does. Makes a desperate grab for his best friend's arm, pinning him to the rooftop of the camper with his body desperately locking his arms around Rick's chest; over his arms so he can't take a swing at Daryl trying to get away. Effectively stopping his best friend from being able to do anything more than emit tortured screams for his only son to run even though he has to know it's no use. They've all seen this story play out too many times.

_But not Carl. God why does it have to be Carl? _

The Walkers on the overpass are gathered around the camper's walls now drawn by the noise and movement. They paw and swipe hands making grabs at empty air not quite close enough to their ankles to present any real danger; unless Rick gets away from him and makes it off this damn roof.

And there's nothing he can do. It claws at him rips him open exposing raw nerves attached to the memories of everyone they've ever lost this way.

There's nothing she can do beside him still screaming into that damn Walkie Talkie like it will make a difference; but it won't. They're all helpless to do anything now but watch and pray that maybe it will be quick at least, maybe there will be that mercy.

God it tears him up inside listening to Rick scream, because now he knows all to well the feelings that go hand-in-hand with that sound- because he felt the same way the night he thought he'd lost Seraphim to that horde below the porch.

_Only this time it doesn't look like there will be any miracle acts of God._

Carl has been a little brother to him for years—losing him is going to rip a gaping hole in his chest. One more impossible pain for them to all struggle through. One more big fucking empty hole in their lives that never goes away and Fuck this God Damn cruel world they live in; he's sick of this shit! Just how much more of this can they really take before they all crack? Losing Lori nearly took Rick down, Daryl's not sure his friend will survive the death of his son.

The Walkers are everywhere now, thick as a living river; pouring out of the trees, ambling up the road; blocking him in between the cars—and there's too many of them. He's got no way out. Nowhere to hide that they can't overwhelm; break through reaching him with so many gathered now. Daryl's not positive that if they don't make it back to the truck in the next few seconds and get the Hell out of here that they won't be trapped on this roof until they tear the camper apart to reach them; they need to run or they might die here too…

Rick screams in agony and he tightens his grip over his chest desperate to keep him on the rooftop; out of their waiting eager outstretched hands. He needs to keep Rick alive; they can't lose him too. Judith needs him; they all do.

Daryl's all but holding Rick's full weight; when Rick goes down to his knees his legs giving out he drags Daryl down to the hot rusted metal rooftop with him...

Rick is screaming but it's not words anymore… they're both screaming… he realizes as the pain floods his chest slams into his lungs on the next inhale.

Carl starts shooting at the Walkers pressing in against him, and it won't help; only draws the remaining ones closer frenzied by the loud sound…

Carl goes down.

Rick's anguished roars echoes off the trees, reverberates through his skull in a deafening wounded cry of pain like he's the one dying down on the pavement. The tortured sound the very soul of a man makes when he's powerless once more to do anything but stand by and lose another person he loves.

Just listening to the sound is _too much to bear. _His chest constricts, locks around the scream trying to make it out of his throat choking him.

At first he barely registers that she's grabbing his shoulder in her hand; her grip bruising tight against his collarbone finally drawing his attention.

He wants to raise his arm; press his hand over hers to try and tell her it will be okay; reassure her even though they both know it won't be okay; not with them losing Carl.

But he can't let go of Rick without losing him too...

She leans into him presses three words to his ear, lips brushing his skin as she speaks in the minute space between Rick's tortured screams. He identifies the words even as his brain trips over them, stumbling to grasp why she'd tell him _now_. Those three powerful words fill his head expanding to drown out everything else around them for one heart stopping moment…

"_I love you_."

Then she physically stops his heart; rips it from his chest with a sharp cry, his hand snapping out to grab her arm; stop her leaping off the fucking roof because she's lost her god damn mind, and he's too late…she's gone, running away from them past the Walkers…

Rick tries to grab her too jerking forward hand closing over empty air nearly pulling them both down. Daryl has to yank him back out of their grasp, nearly losing him off the front of the camper; all the while screaming for her to _Stop_!

But she's not stopping; she's running toward the concrete wall separating the overpass from the empty air over the horde below.

And then without having to say a damn thing he's letting Rick go and they're both taking out the Walkers pressed against the camper's edge. Eliminating them one by one with guns and bows noises be damned and he registers the car arriving from up the highway out of the corner of his eye; Michonne and Tyreese leaping out racing towards them. He gestures wildly at them; hoping to communicate his message to them since they're closer; not pinned in by twenty Walkers…

Michonne is already halfway through the sword arc taking down the three closest dead stumbling toward her the second she clears the vehicle. Tyreese right behind her back his machete in hand raised to strike.

Michonne runs towards Fin trying to intercept her when she finally hears him yell at her to "_Stop Fin!" _They've got tostop her before she can do what he knows with the horrifying awful certainty flooding his gut she's about to do because she's so stubborn and stupid when it comes to family, and God Damn she always told him she didn't have a death wish but he knows she does because she's vaulting over the wall into empty air without pause and she's _gone_.

He's leaping down the ladder off the Camper roof; Rick right behind him while he takes out two more Walkers with arrows he yanks out a second later passing them pounding his feet across the asphalt to the half wall overlooking the underpass and the seething mass of bodies below.

Rick is yelling at Michonne now who's just as crazy as Fin is. She's about to go over the edge and follow her when Rick grabs her belt pulls her back down wrapping an arm around her waist to stop her from following on a complete suicide mission.

Daryl's focus is already on Fin racing over the top of the cars below them; leaping from roof to roof before jumping to the ground between the heavy press of bodies.

She's still running full out not even sparing a glance for their lunging outstretched hands and now it's Rick and Tyreese holding him back while he curses and swears and raises his crossbow before dropping it again because the shot is too fucking far away and there's nothing he can do from this distance but watch her die trying to save Carl's body.

Because that's all it will be at this point and God Damn if he's not going to climb over this wall even if he has to drag Tyreese and Rick and Michonne with him…

He can't just stand here and watch her slam into Walkers left and right while she runs knocking them down so she can keep running towards where Carl fell mere moments before. They might not be able to grab her now with her running; but he knows when she gets there, when she stops to grab Carl or whatever it is she thinks she's doing: they're going to be too much. They're going to grab her then: and she's not even drawing her bow, doesn't even have her knife out…

He can't watch; and can't look away at the same time hearing Rick curse beside him and Michonne yelling at Rick to let her go so she can help because both girls are fucking insane. Daryl's not sure if it's shock keeping him frozen on the overpass now or Tyreese's hold over both his arms…he just cant move.

She jumps straight into one of them slamming them both down to the ground. And then she's spinning to the side leaping over another one knee smashing into its face driving that one down to the ground again like it's some fucking game and she's sparing with Luke and Chris instead of barely escaping the grasp of a hundred fucking Walkers all trying to grab her at once while he can't do anything from here but curse and watch.

She's scrambling up again, kicking out catching the one trying to snatch her leg in the face stilling it's movement. And she just keeps running. Drops to the ground and rolls knocking into the legs of two directly in her path before they can swipe their arms at her grab her and bite. Their forward stumbling motion as they trip over her tiny frame rolling over the ground sends them jerking and flailing onto their faces while she's already up behind their backs and running again.

She's screaming for someone, he can't make out the name from here with the snarling mass below them; but it doesn't sound like his name or Carl's from what he catches on the wind. Maybe it's not a name at all; maybe it's not even her…

And she's finally pulling out her Machete he notes;slamming the blade through the skull of the first Walker in her reach. She kicks out at the next, shoving it back from where Carl's body fell against the vehicle door he tried to escape inside of only to find it locked against his back.

She's smashing and slicing and then she's just standing there staring down at him not moving, and he can only imagine the horror she's seeing while Rick sobs next to him great heaving racking sobs while Michonne tries to hold back her own sobs arms wrapped around Rick's shoulders holding him up.

Fin's kneeling down and he can't see her behind the other vehicle blocking his view but he's noticing something else. Something he should have picked up on the second she stopped moving… she should have been devoured by them…

_But she wasn't. Isn't…They're not moving... and that can't be right; can't be what he's seeing because that doesn't make any sense at all._

"Guys! Why aren't they attacking?" He's not the only one who's noticed, he isn't imagining it because Tyreese sees it too and now Rick and Michonne are paying attention again.

They're all watching as she reappears between the cars, standing back up with Carl's heavy form draped against hers.

And the Walkers still aren't moving closer…

"No Fucking way…" Michonne is shaking her head in disbelief. She's the only one he knows who's pulled off anything even remotely like that.

But Fin's not using Walkers for cover: she's not using anything.

Carl is obviously wounded, bleeding should be drawing them into a frenzy with the scent…

"How…how…" Rick can't even finish and he wouldn't have an answer anyway. All he can do is watch dumbstruck while she half drags Carl through the Walkers like it's nothing. She helps him shuffle towards one of the vehicles. The dead back away as they move, closing in around them both until they're encircling them in a loose ring, never moving closer to them.

She's trying the back door with one hand, still supporting Carl with her other arm. She moves to the side, shuffles Carl around to sit on the back seat. She straightens back up pulling that ridiculous long sleeve tee over her head she insists on wearing even in this good awful heat. She's wrapping it around Carl's neck, must be covering a bite.

They're obviously saying something, arguing about something with the way she waves her hands between them while Carl sits half in and half out of the back seat like the Dead aren't pressed in all around them and she doesn't even bother to turn and look at them standing not three feet from her unprotected back…

She's shutting the back door after Carl slides into the car; circling to the driver side door without looking back at them. He presses his hands to his mouth funneling his voice down over their heads frantic to reach her, figure out what the hell she's doing; where the hell she thinks she's going; and how the fuck she's doing that…

"Seraphim!"

She freezes mid-step, still not looking up; just keeps staring down at the ground in front of her feet wavering like she's struggling with whatever she's about to do next…or like she just remembered they were up here at all… She doesn't turn her head. She just keeps walking around the front of the car she put Carl in; opening the front door and climbing into the driver seat.

And why wouldn't she look up at him _unless_…His heart stops in his chest, blood running cold.

_She said she loved him _

_It was supposed to be her goodbye._

The car must start because she's pulling forward in it and the Walkers are backing out of her way; not slamming their hands into the hood or beating on the glass like they should be doing if it was any of them driving through that mess and it still doesn't make any sense…

She pulls forward until there's too many cars crisscrossed over the road; too deep a ditch on either side to navigate. She's throwing the door open; smashing it's edge into a shuffling Walker. Kicking out in obvious frustration at one that gets in her way and instead of charging back at her it stumbles into the others staggers back to its feet maintaining its distance…

"Seriously! How the Fuck is she doing that?!" Tyreese is leaned against the wall shaking his head in total disbelief, no longer bothering to keep Daryl from jumping down there; they're all in too much shock to move.

"You're seeing this too right, I'm not standing here losing my mind?"

"If you are, then we all are." Michonne's tone is low, carefully guarded. One of her hands still locked tight around Rick's upper arm keeping him from doing something stupid like leaping over the edge trying to get to Carl. Rick's hand is still on her maybe for the same reason, trying to keep each other grounded; alive.

He can't speak, can't even breathe all he can do is watch her move through the Walkers, pull open the car door blocking her immediate path and lean into it; obviously shifting it into neutral.

She's trying to shove it off the road, pushing at its bumper before lashing out at its heavy weight kicking the door, hands clenched at her sides screaming wordless outrage that echoes off the trees all around them must carry for miles over the hills.

Not that it seems to matter for her; they all turn towards the sound but don't move beyond that even an inch. She's all but invisible screaming and punching out at the glass on the vehicles backdoor before twisting and pressing her back against the car's side.

She bends double pressing her hands to her knees then over her face pulling in great gasps of air; he can't tell if she's crying from here but now they're moving and he's about to scream a warning hears Rick open his mouth to do the same before they can grab her tear her apart. Whatever weird lull they were previously under now appears to have gone as they surge forward at once…

Except they're not grabbing her…

They press against the side and front of the car; pushing it en mass backwards right out from behind her back. She slips off the smooth pollen coated metal of the back panel before landing on the asphalt; twisting around and crawling backward from the now rolling car. She jerks herself up off the pavement and just stares at them back rigid, frozen to the hot asphalt as immobile as stone.

She drops her chin holding her hands out in front of her like she's never seen them before this moment. Turns her head slowly to stare at the car now completely off the road, it's back axles rolled right into the grassy ditch.

She raises her arm slowly, hesitantly like she can't believe it herself; points to the second vehicle. And all but leaps backward bending double visibly shaken when they move toward that one the second she does it, like she's going to be sick maybe; except instead of puking she screams.

The sound rivals Rick's cry for Carl, and Lori… reminds him of Carol's tortured plea's for Sophia on another hot summer day that still haunts him.

It's the sound she made in her nightmares on that first night so long ago when he first woke heart pounding, jerked from sleep certain she was an inch from death and calling to him to save her… it's pain and agony and fear clawing out of her while she drops to the pavement; just collapses surrounded by them not caring. She's slamming her fists repeatedly into the searing hot surface baking in the unrelenting sun beating down on them.

Then she stops, jerks herself up off the ground and just turns her back to them silently climbing back into the car like it never happened. Pulling herself back together with that iron will that still amazes him. They watch her silently continue pulling forward into the now cleared space on the road.

And they just _Keep_ moving cars…the rest of them aren't even traveling through the trees; they've stopped sifting through the scattered abandoned vehicles left untouched on the pavement; and it _isn't real_; Tyreese is right it _can't be._

_Even though he knows it is._

_This is how she survived alone._

This is how she could be unharmed falling off that roof that horrifying night at the Peacock farm when he thought he'd lost her yet again.

'_I don't have a death wish I swear.'_

She'd jumped into a mass of Walkers with only a knife after Chris…and it's only now he realizes as the air rushes from his lungs so fast and hard it's like a kick to the gut.

She _really_ meant it: _she was never in any danger…not once… _

_and she couldn't tell him?!_

He wheezes trying to draw air into his seizing lungs, leaning heavily against the wall trying to fight the black film swimming over his vision Rick's hand coming up on his back to support him; keep him upright.

_She was safe, the whole time. _

He was never in danger of losing her like that.

Nearly tore himself apart with grief and worry and she never bothered to tell him…

_What the Hell?!_

The vehicle stops at the edge of the crowd; even though she could keep driving and he thinks for a split second that she's coming back for them—is going to get them off the overpass…

But that doesn't make any sense… he calls to her again just her name shouted over the muted crowd gathered below them by the hundreds; maybe thousands desperate to get her attention; for her to acknowledge him in some small way…

And Michonne is pulling at Rick's arm telling them they should go now before whatever compulsion she's got them under is gone…but her words just stop mid-sentence.

No one moves.

He can't even hear them breathing next to him.

Because the crowd _is_ moving again.

But not towards the sound of his anguished call of her name; or towards her.

They're shifting; melting into one another converging and slamming into their own ranks like some medieval war movie between two converging barbarian armies. Their arms raised violently slashing and tearing like he's never seen them do before; because they don't move that _fast_; they _never_ have... and it's _her_…_she's doing it_.

Somehow; she's killing them all.

_And it all makes sense. _

_Horrible perfect sense now he can see it all in retrospect; in perfect clarity… Even from the very beginning from Rick's three questions it was there, the truth: How many Walkers have you killed? _

'_I don't count'_

She saved Carl from the Walkers in the woods that day; lead them away so he wouldn't see what she was doing…Rolling off the roof at the Peacock farm into their waiting hands... Killing the dead around them as they moved to keep them safe even when she was hurt; because she wasn't in danger at least not from them…

The warehouse…

Splitting up and hunting alone…

She was hiding it the whole time…

The Walkers rip and shred and yank skin off limbs blindly lashing and clawing and teeth snapping at necks and fingers tearing at soft easily punctured bellies and the smell…beside him Michonne gags as it reaches them. The hot wafting perfume overwhelms his senses; tears his eyes and clogs his throat, it's the scent of bile; of putrid, decaying death. It rises like a heat wave off the stove-hot asphalt while the bodies below them thrash and flail as if the broiling heat under the sun is boiling as they fall; first one by one; then in great droves.

It sweeps through them whatever this new madness is turning them into a rolling massive wave of frenzied chaos that exists only to destroy every Walker in its path… and she just stands there nothing more than a pale outline against the faded blacktop in the distance. When the last ones are falling to the ground too broken and split to stagger back up she falls; crumples to the ground.

Landing heavily on her knees and hands outline jerking and seizing in a way that hints at emptying her stomach onto the steaming concrete between her palms. She raises her head finally, he can only tell because the pale oval of her face replaces the bright auburn ring of hair shining in the sunlight as she lifts her chin, stares at the Walkers between them on the asphalt; hundreds of bodies ripped limb from limb; teeth snapping where they've fallen over mouthfuls of nothing but empty air; the threat they posed moments before all but destroyed.

It's one Hell of a way to find out that she's fucking Super Woman.

She twists her head back towards the stopped car where Carl is still hidden from sight.

Turns her pale face back to look towards them again for only a moment and then she's climbing to her feet; looking unsteady and shaken even from this distance as she moves back to the driver's side door still sitting ajar from where she jumped out moments before.

She slams it closed behind her never glancing back. The sound echoes in the hills; punches him in the gut with the finality of it.

None of them speak or move; like the soles of their shoes have fused into the asphalt, the shock of what they've all witnessed but are still struggling to believe has melted away their ability to form words.

Without the snarling of the Walkers and the scraping slide of hundreds of shuffling feet over the pavement around them he can hear the cicadas' again. Their ever present buzzing hum presses in his ears; fills the empty spaces between the surrounding trees, floats through the hot air. The leaves around them rustle with the first hint of a breeze they've had all damn day.

It should offer him some relief; it moves his hair growing stronger, even in this first gust quickly gathering strength. It's caress still too warm tickles the sweat dripping down the back of his neck to soak into his collar already pressed flat and wet against his skin.

Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance, the sound slinks over the hills creeps into the hot spaces between the trees; curls around their trunks and into the small patches of shade pressed tight under the tree line because even the shade wants to hide from the wretched broiling sun.

The first fat drop hits the pavement sizzling and sending up a plum of steam evaporating the moment it hits like butter dancing on a hot skillet.

Only in Georgia can the sky fall _before_ the sun stops trying to roast you alive. Liquid sunshine Merle called it he recalls briefly as more drops fall; strike his neck over his collar; bead and then roll down the back of his hands still pressed to the wall before them. Heavy black clouds are just starting to pitch and roll across the sky.

He still can't breathe, can't move from the wall just watching her drive away.

All around him Summer finally breaks. The scorched ground hisses greedily gulping down the thick rain pelting his back. Michonne and Tyreese are trying to drag them back to the car before they have to swim. But he doesn't care. He's already drowning.

Cascading droplets pull the heat from his skin, water drips from the tips of his hair plastering too long bangs in disordered spikes against his forehead and chin; the drops run into his eyes threatening to blind him. He's soaked in moments the air around him wetter than a swimming hole with the downpour he barely notices.

All around the soles of his boots; and Rick's water gathers puddles and splashes soaking their pant legs; seeping into socks leaving no part of them untouched, and still they stand frozen oblivious to the beaded water trickling off the end of his bangs, and the drips running down his face gathering in thick rivulets streaming down his temples to his chin before diving off toward his shirt and the pavement.

All around them the wind picks up pushes at them, trying to drive them back from the overpass; it's no longer a breeze as it races through the bowers high overhead tearing leaves off with unseen hands to fall toward the ground. The heavy gusts sending a few of them all the way across the empty roadway to spin and dance around their still forms like lively green butterflies in a minute air show.

The world all around them is moving again,

It no longer needs to hold its breath.

The axe has fallen.

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**:: Walking Dead ::**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine. Poo

**Notes:** Okay here we go, Chapter one!

Thanks for the awesome reviews already! You guys rock! I'm so flattered! : D

to the reviewer worried there would be more angst in this story then romance; don't you worry! It's still a Daryl/Fin story so there _will_ be romance...but especially with these first few chapters I didn't feel right labeling this one a 'romance'... it still is... it needs three descriptions to be fair: it's a Angsty/Drama/Romance! ; P

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**Chapter One**

_(Carol's POV)_

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"Oh Good, we were just starting to get worr…Rick?" Carol jerks to her feet instantly alert, dread curling through her stomach at his expression.

"Where are they? Are they here?" Rick is looking around eyes wild and unfocused. He charges into Fin's old room, door slamming open before he comes back out.

"Where are they?!"

His t-shirt is soaked clinging to every inch of his skin, his hair drips worked into a mass of tight curls partially flattened across his forehead from the unrelenting downpour they just escaped from by finally climbing down the ladder.

Tight knots form in the pit of her stomach, twisting and writhing.

She's seen that look on Rick's face before…_after Lori…oh God no._ Her eyes fly to each rain plastered body coming down the ladder, moving quiet and morose; far too subdued for the usual light heartedness they display when all together especially after a successful run…

Their demeanor screams of loss, it radiates off every one of them inescapable, agonizing to see.

"Where's _who_?" Carol's steps away from the fire pit leaving Beth and Maggie sitting on the bench staring at everyone as they come downstairs dripping wet, faces drawn tight and pale.

No one is saying anything and all she can think is that clearly_ Something went wrong._

She quickly assesses the group pales visibly going stone still where she stands realizing who's missing with a wave of mixed misery and horror.

"Where's Fin and Carl?" She can barely get the words out. Head turning gaze flicking frantically between Rick and Daryl both standing unearthly still staring off into the distance jaws tight.

"Oh, God…" Maggie's on her feet now too moving toward them visibly shaken.

"Why wouldn't they come back?! Why the Fuck wouldn't she bring him back here!?"

Carol has to dive forward grabbing Rick's arm, Michonne grabs him too; stopping him from shoving Daryl again.

Daryl who doesn't react.

Just jerks backward like a ragdoll, barely moving his feet fast enough to stay upright under Rick's assault. He doesn't try to defend himself; doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He just stares.

"What Happened? Rick! Someone tell me what the Hell happened out there!" She's feeling more frantic by the second, if they were dead why would Rick be asking about them; they got separated somehow…they'll be back…she just needs to find out the details and…

"There was a horde…" Michonne's words cut through her thoughts like a hot knife. She's watching Rick's face as she says it, like she doesn't know how to believe it herself. Her expression pained, looking closer to tears then Carol's ever seen her. "Had to be a thousand of them…" her voice goes so quiet on that last part Carol's not sure she heard her correctly…how are any of them alive?

Maggie presses her face to Glenn's chest fist pressed to her mouth to stop any sound from escaping…she was supposed to go with them today…Glenn too.

"Are they…" _Dead_. No one can say it. It's too final.

"The Hell was That?!" Rick's outburst makes Daryl move finally. He spins to face Rick arms thrown out face pulled into a snarl Carol hasn't seen since Merle was around to rile him up.

"_I Don't Know_!"

"You telling me she could do that the whole time and you didn't know?!"

"The Fuck you implying Rick?!"

"What the Hell is Going on?!" She's between them in an instant before they can come to actual blows. Michonne is beside Rick not in front of him; just _there_ eyeing him sternly. Carol barely catches her mummer of "That's not gonna bring him back." Rick covers his face with his hand shoulders shaking in silent anguish.

"Carl got separated…" Tyreese looks surprised to find he's talking. He pauses swallowing tightly; but continues when it seems no one else will explain. "Fin went to go save him…and…" He waves a hand eyes wide, looking at Daryl.

_Everyone_ is looking at Daryl.

"I don't even know how to describe it…" Tyreese's voice falters, face blanching hard.

"She stopped them…Killed them…How did she do that?" Rick snarls his question.

"I Don't Know! You think I would keep something like that from everyone?!" Daryl looks lost, his hands shaking when he raises them; dragging unsteady fingers through wet hair.

"Something like _what_ Rick? Daryl? Someone Please just tell us what happened…"

"I don't think she knew she could do it." Daryl and Rick are both staring at Michonne now. "She looked pretty freaked out to me. More freaked out then I've ever seen her and me and that girl on a couple of runs; we've been in some shit." Michonne raises an eyebrow at them.

"No." Tyreese is shaking his head, glances at Glenn and Sasha his eyes wide. "When we were at the Peacock farm they said it; She lives _with_ Walkers…"

Glenn is shaking his head. "What are you guys talking about, please somebody…"

"Fin saved Carl from being eaten alive…she jumped right into the middle of them; and just stood there and they stopped…they just _stopped_…"

"What do you mean they stopped?" Beth is staring at Tyreese arms raised palms up face scrunched in confusion.

"It was like she was controlling them; she made them do things…it…I don't even know how to describe it…" Tyreese shakes his head again moves to sit in one of the chairs, it groans under his solid weight.

"So where are they?" Maggie's voice is thick with tears a few still glisten on her cheeks where she stands clasping Glenn's hand in hers.

"They drove away." Michonne is staring at Rick again when she answers, expression drawn and tight. "She had to save him, you know that; Rick…Rick look at me." She's grabbing Rick's face turning him to stare at her. "She's trying to _save_ him. It's _Fin_, come on; you _know_ Fin; Carl is like a little brother to her. She's not here because she's probably somewhere trying to fix him; she couldn't make it all the way back here. She saved Mika…"

"He got bit…" Rick's voice breaks he pitches forward gasping for air, Michonne is almost holding him upright.

"So did my Dad." Beth chimes in. "And you were able to save him."

"No…he…he got bit everywhere…Why wouldn't she bring him back here?" his face crumples in pain voice choked. "I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye…"

"Let's just give her a chance okay? Maybe she can do something; she saved Mika's life. We don't know, it might be possible. Especially with what she did…"

Everyone is staring at nothing; eyes unfocused red rimmed.

Except Daryl.

He turns away without another word.

"Where are you going?" He doesn't turn around at her question, just hefts his bow back onto his shoulder grabbing the first rungs of the ladder; starting to climb.

"I'll be up on the roof."

"Daryl it's pouring out…" Lightening cuts off the end of her sentence punctuating her point, not that he listens. He rarely does when it comes to Seraphim.

"I'm gonna go too, and if they're not back in the morning we go looking for them." Rick is nodding his head he straightens up turns away from them and climbs back up the wet ladder following Daryl.

Their footfalls on the metal surface drowned out by the world splitting wide open in another deafening crack of thunder that rattles the very air, makes everyone's hearts pound in their chests skipping a few beats.

"Someone want to explain to me again, exactly what went on out there today?"

No one even notices the tiny blonde standing next to the far ladder having come up to see what the commotion was all about, and then hearing the words deciding to stayed hidden in the shadows just outside the flickering light cast off of the fire pit. Her hands clasped white knuckled in front of her over the little black box she never lets go of when Carl and Fin are out on runs. The little green light on her walkie barely illuminates her fingertips, is swallowed up in the darkness pressing against her skin like a physical weight listening to them yell and snarl at one another having learned Fin's secret…

She was right not to tell them all; it's tearing them apart.

She watches them all, and listens, praying silently for Carl's safety, that Fin can work her magic and save him too. But more than anything she prays that wherever they are tonight that Fin can hear their pain through the Walkie pressed tightly against her palms.

She has to hear this: so she knows it's not safe to come home.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

_(Fin's POV)_

"Come on Carl, Move your Feet!"

My back and arms ache with the strain of his weight my legs shake under me as I fight to keep moving forward; half dragging, half carrying him through the second set of heavy double doors. Both our wet soles slipping on the slick linoleum floor's surface with soft rubber squeaks that echo down the empty paper and stretcher littered hallway stretching before us in the darkness.

The hallway flashes into view a millisecond before the boom of thunder rattles the windows in their frames to our right. Water drips down from my soaked hair I blink it rapidly out of my stinging eyes. My wet fingers slip on his skin trying to adjust my grip as he sags again nearly taking us both to our knees.

"Carl!" I try to keep the rising panic out of my tone.

"Yeah…I know." It's more breathy wheeze then actual voice.

He's not going to last much longer. He's already far too pale, too much blood soaking his clothes; staining his skin. I look down at my boots as we move forward realize were both leaving pink tinted puddles and drips against the pale grey floor. Desperation claws at my insides, prickles across my skin in a wash of alarm and fear.

"_Move _Carl! Almost there come on."

We keep moving down the hallway. It feels like we're crawling trying to get there; barely moving a few inches with each shuffling step but we make it to the first empty room on the left before my legs can give out.

The empty plate card not displaying a faded name written in black Sharpe tells me it's clean.

I usher him into the room, both of us grunting and cursing breathing too hard trying to get him up onto the bed. The second he's laying down I race back out of the room. I circle the nurse's station opening drawers and cabinets until I locate what I need; a heavy duty black flash light.

I snatch it out testing the batteries and run back down the hall. I slip trying to stop at the right door and hit the floor with a sharp curse and a bone jarring thud that rattles my teeth re-awakening the pounding headache behind my eyes I'd almost escaped from less than an hour ago.

_God Damn wet floors._

I hiss in pain limping my way briskly into the supply room grabbing a clean pillow case from the linen cart, holding the flashlight aloft in one hand I fly through the shelves as fast as I can; locating the items I need and throwing them into the make-shift clothe sack. I'm going to need all this and more if Carl has a chance in hell….

_No. I will not think that way. _

_Carl is going to make it. He has to._

Slowly the pillowcase grows heavier in my hand filled with gauze, IV fluid and lines, medical dressing and tape. I set it down by the wall and grab the fire extinguisher off the shelf smashing the glass with a strained grunt bringing the red metal cylinder to bear on the Pyxis machine that safeguards the most precious items in this room.

Medicines.

Real ones.

Powerful pain relievers; antibiotics, sedation…

I grab vials and syringes and needles and finally a clean gown from the linen cart slamming back through the heavy door smashing it into the wall with a solid _Bang_ too much force in my haste to get back to him.

A few of the closed patient doors up and down the hall rattle and shake with the heavy pounding of desperate fists and enraged snarls.

One more mess to clean up after I deal with this first.

I open the door to Carl's room again, he's passed out it seems, I press two fingers to his jawline, watch him breathe slowly. He's still alive.

I quickly start two separate IV's hanging bags with pressure cuffs over them hoping to replace the fluids he's lost; keep his heart pumping as long as I can; long enough to get him fixed up so he can heal.

_He has to heal._

He doesn't wake as I work; doesn't even stir, it's not a good sign.

I watch him carefully while I'm stitching and packing and wrapping and finally stripping him out of his blood and rain soaked ruined clothes flinging them away forgotten into the corner behind me. I cover him with the hospital gown and dry blankets.

His pulse is weak, breathing too shallow. Closing the wounds isn't enough.

_It's not enough._

I press my lips to his forehead, brush his wet hair back from his temple. "I'll be right back, don't you dare go anywhere without me."

I pull his door shut behind me to safeguard him against any Walkers that might be loose in the ward. Then I'm quickly moving back to the stairwell we came out of on our arrival pausing to briefly check the map labeled 'escape plan' posted to the wall behind a heavily scratched clear plastic lacquer.

I quickly locate the right floor on the map find the maintenance room on the faded blueprint. I race back out the door, pushing past a few stumbling Walkers dressed in a mixture of scrubs and hospital gowns alike some of them are dragging empty IV bags behind them down the hallway as they follow me snarling and rasping too desperate to follow any movement to take stalk in whether or not they will _want_ to eat me once I hold still…Of course being drenched in Carl's blood as I am; I might want to stay out of their reach just to be on the safe side.

I almost pass the room I need. It's tiny name plaque barely visible in the dark hallway, I twist the handle thanking god silently when it turns un-locked despite the faded yellow painted letters on its surface labeling its contents for 'Authorized Staff Only'

I sift through the shelves in the dark find another row of heavy duty flashlights. Use the small bright circle against the darkness to find what I'm seeking after a few passes between black painted pipes and giant filters and…_there._

I kneel down checking the tanks, almost full somehow. They must have never made the switch to emergency power before everything fell apart here. I flip the switch on the side of the giant engine and it rumbles to life with the most glorious roar I've ever heard. It takes a few moments but the single light overhead flickers and gradually brightens as it and the rest of the hospital comes back to life.

I climb back to my feet grabbing two more flashlights I stuff into my deep cargo pockets and return to the hallway switching off lights as I move by them.

I've just lit this place up like a beacon to the outside world.

I quickly make my way back to Carl's ward slipping between the dead waiting outside the double doors. I park a nearby stretcher against the front doors after I cross the threshold.

The alarms and blaring equipment all desperate to inform a staff that no longer exists of their patient's lack of heartbeats echoes off everything. Beeping hysteria clamors all up and down the halls.

I ignore them for now, like the ever present snarling still taking place behind closed patient doors. I rush back to Carl's room press my fingers to his neck relief washing through me.

"Thank God."

I grab the machines out of the corners that I need, and set about keeping Carl alive with their help.

Once the steady beep and hissing press of the ventilator echoes through the room I secure his hands to the rails; insure he can't wake up and rip the tubes out of his throat before I get back despite the sedation I've just given him.

I exit his room again, closing it securely behind me and begin one by one pulling the doors open and ushering the dead behind them down the hallway ahead of me. I work slowly clearing out the whole ward room by room switching off all the lights, and unplugging every piece of equipment drawing power we can't waste as I go.

I shove the double doors open and move everyone en mass down the hallway to the stairwell directing them down ignoring the raging headache pounding inside my skull as we all move down through the darkness taking the stairs to the lobby.

Then I return upstairs work my way through the next ward, and the next the same way.

It's systematic and soothing; keeps me moving; not thinking about what happened today as I work. I can't think about it all; not yet. I just keep moving, block it out.

Remove the dead, kill the lights.

Next floor.

Remove the Dead.

Kill the lights.

It's methodical and numbing, distracts me from the pain slashing and ripping at my chest with each inhale whenever I pause for too long. Moving to the next floor stops the vicious ache trying to claw its way up my throat with every exhale.

It's a small hospital, only four floors but half the night is gone when I've finished. I check Carl periodically, he's stable for now, the machines are keeping him alive hopefully until I can figure out how to do it for real.

The rain pounding the glass outside his room sounds like the beating of a hundred angry fists against the pane. The wind rattles and whistles against the building's exterior while lightening periodically illuminates the treetops outside. The heavy fat rain drops seem to freeze mid-air in the flashes of lightening that illuminate the world bright as mid-day for mere moments before they continuing down to earth in the following inky darkness. But in those brief flashes it's almost as if time has stopped, as if the whole world is holding its breath. Waiting.

I close all the blinds over the windows so no glimmer of light from inside will beckon to the outside world; broadcasting signs of life. I have to keep us both alive by keeping us as hidden as possible with Carl incapacitated.

Earlier I worked my way outside in the darkness under the heavy storm, retrieving my bow from the car and weaving carefully and quietly between the dead I'd cleared from halls and rooms now left alone to sift their way aimlessly around the parking lots. Their snarls echoing each cracking roar that filled the sky peeking them into an angry frenzy over sounds they can't reach; can't locate to investigate. I ignored their cries: too busy checking the outside of the building for visible lights.

When I finally returned to the Carl's ward I was long past soaked to the bone, shivering despite the warm summer air. My shoes squeaking on the slick floor with each careful step; trying not to slip again my hip aching from my first hard fall earlier in the night.

I stood in his doorway indecision and anxiety beating at me, making me question every moment, every decision I've made in this God Forsaken day. But at least I was confident that now we were mildly safer from discovery with the outside building nothing but a dark square block of brick against the surrounding darkness.

It was a long time before I moved again.

I feel blank now; Strangely disconnected from it all staring at myself in the bathroom mirror in the silence that stretches between heavy claps of thunder rattling the door and the building around me.

Carl's blood is smeared in a thick swipe across my right cheekbone despite the downpour of rain.

My fingers are discolored and stiff, my clothes smeared with too much brown dried blood clinging to my body making it difficult to move.

I meant to take a shower; change into the clean bright green scrubs I grabbed on my way past the cart outside.

But I can't move.

Can't breathe suddenly.

Heat washes up my clammy skin, burns behind my eyes I don't bother to blink it away. Just stare at the green eyes in the mirror in front of me watching with an almost alien detachment as they fill with tears, spill down over pale cheeks that could belong to a stranger for all the connection I feel with them.

When the sob finally tears out of my chest it's choked and raw.

I stagger back, can't look at myself anymore. My whole body slamming into the door hard enough to hurt; to rattle it's heavy wood surface in its metal frame, palm pressed to my mouth gasping and sobbing on half broken unfinished words that work their way up out of the agony in my chest. I'm shaking with a very different kind of cold, no longer even feeling the heat leeched from my skin by the rain.

My legs give out and I slump down to the cold linoleum floor, my tight wet clothes pinching and scrapping; clinging over cold chaffed skin that barely registers the discomfort.

I press my face to my knees; wrap myself into a ball and finally just let it out.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

**To be continued... ( duh like I'd leave it there! ha! )**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Daryl Dixon….I do own Fin….maybe AMC will make a trade?! Hmmm….

**Notes: **Another Fin Chapter! I will be giving you guys up to chapter three this weekend, one for Friday, sat, and sun…this is technically Sundays chapter but I'll be writing all day (I hope!) and tomorrow so it's easier for me to give it to you now! This way you can enjoy it and then go crazy for more! Lol

I will try to hold to the same updates schedule as OU as long as I can keep writing (the toddler monster must cooperate!) and I stay far enough ahead of you guys to get stuff to my awesome beta in time… Look for updates on Spaghetti Tuesdays (you know, every Wednesday *Hershel! Sob*) and Sundays because that's Walking Dead Day!

Yay! xD

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews, fave/follows! You guys make me feel awesome!**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

"_I'm just saying that I think you should just get a sub tomorrow, stay home. You said most of the other teachers called out."_

"_I can't stay home Phil, what about the kids?" _

_I catch Tobin's eye over the table top. Make my eyes dramatically wide while he snickers; we both try to hide our grins behind forkfuls of food._

"Our top story tonight, more disturbing reports of violent attacks coming in from several major cities across the country.—"

_Tobin waves his fork in the air in front of him; he talks with his hands just like Phil, they're the same height now, share the same dark hair and brown eyes, the polar opposite of Mom's pale complexion and freckles her dark auburn locks. _

"_Mom, Come on, it's second grade; they'll be fine with a sub for a day. It's not like one day without the prefect lesson plan is going to keep them out of college." I hide my smile at Tobin's retort behind my glass of milk, only our mother could be so dramatic about missing one day of second grade._

"_Well, I'm not gonna lie; I had a sub two days in a row in second grade and it was real touch and go for a few minutes." My mother cuts her eyes at Phil while the three of us laugh completely ignoring her scathing look. _

_We laugh harder when half chewed peas fall out of Tobin's mouth back onto his plate._

"_Tobin, for goodness sake! Close your mouth when you chew, and that's enough of that from both of you; Phil you too. Don't give me that look. You'd think I raised a complete hooligan. I shudder to think what your manners will be like after you spend freshman year at State." _

_The only sound for a few minutes is the silverware scraping over dishes. Tobin's milk glass thunks against the table top almost sloshing onto the wood __he's distracted staring over his shoulder at the TV again. I'm still shocked Phil left it on during family time._

_Mom continues talking across the table from Phil; her back firmly to the screen; she doesn't like the violence they glorify. "Besides, I don't even think they can get a sub they had to put half of Mrs. Robert's class into mine already too many people have called out…"_

"Authorities have asked us to remind you if you see anyone acting suspicious or if you suspect that someone maybe under the influence of these new mystery drugs do not approach them; you're urged to call 9-1-1 immediately and report it—"

_"How about you Seraphim?" Phil draws my attention from the screen he's watching me face all serious again; Tobin coined it his 'Preacher Face' when we were kids. "I don't like the idea of you up at the hospital tomorrow night alone."_

"_Phil come on; I'm not alone. The hospital is fully staffed even at night, and it's my first month of residency they kind of frown on calling out even if you're dying; bottom of the totem pole and all that. I was lucky to get something this close to home. I almost ended up in Kentucky." _

"Rumors about a new street drug being to blame are running rampant in Atlanta with no official word yet—"

"_Yeah, alright well how about you stay here for the next few days at least; I know it's another twenty minutes driving and you complain about sleep as it is but you don't have to stay at your apartment; be nice to have you home again."_

_It's more like thirty but I nod anyway picking up my glass while my mom shoves more peas onto my plate. _

"_More eating, less talking. It's Tobin's night to help me with the dishes." _

_Tobin doesn't answer her. When I raise my eyes again he's staring at the television in the other room just like Phil. Their faces drawn tight with nearly identical expressions of worry at the images from halfway around the world flashing across the screen._

* * *

I open my eyes blink the sleepy haze out of them, temporarily blinded by the light hitting my eyes.

I turn my head and just continue to lie perfectly still otherwise; staring at the thick strip of sunlight that's peeking around the drawn blinds painting the ceiling over my head and part of the wall beside me with a sweep of overly bright white.

My head still aches, yesterday's migraine a lingering low dull throb still sitting just behind my eyes, radiating back under my hair to press against the base of my skull right over my spine. My empty stomach turns with a touch of nausea.

I'll have to find food for the first time in months. My new reality presses around me inescapable and harsh.

I sit up slowly, turn my head swiping at my eyes staring at Carl still hooked up to the monitors beeping softly in the room.

A quick glance at my watch tells me it's well passed noon. I slept for several hours, but I still feel exhausted. Maybe that's normal after everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. I was up half the night I remind myself, that's a good reason to be tired still; never mind what went down yesterday. I don't even know what effect doing something like that might have on me normally, seeing as I've never done it before.

I move to the mattress's edge sliding my legs out from under the scratchy sheets and padding barefoot across the cool floor to check Carl's IV lines.

His pressure is good, stable; but the bite on his neck and side and leg… one I didn't even see until last night when I got him here are all turning red at the edges. _Not a good sign_.

I have to do something or the infection will spread despite the antibiotics flowing through his bloodstream thanks to the IV fluid and hospital supplies. I pull up a chair and sit down heavily staring off into space chewing my thumbnail before realizing who that particular nervous tick reminds me of and quickly dropping my hand to my lap.

I cleaned his bites with both surgical scrub and hydrogen peroxide the night before; not the wound on his neck; it's far too deep for that; but the other two. It doesn't seem to have made a difference though. All three edges are raw and angry in the morning light.

I glance at my watch we're going on roughly 20 hours since Carl was bitten.

I have to think of something new to try before the fever starts.

* * *

I grunt with the effort it takes to lift the heavy bulky machine I need, why it's not located within working distance of a red outlet connected to the emergency power generator I have _no idea_. I consider that a serious engineering fail on the part of whoever designed this lab.

I curse when it almost slips from my fingers before I've got its bottom half propped at least partially on the countertop. I finally feel it connect and shove it back across the solid surface breathing hard. I pause for a moment shaking my hands out before plugging it in.

Now the less fun part.

Drawing blood.

I sit down on the rolling stool next to the countertop where I already laid out the things I'm going to need, no sense in trying to open them with one hand in a moment. And I'm not sticking my foot, that just freaks me out for some reason.

I prop my elbow up on the counter use my teeth to tighten the rubber strip over my bicep and pick up the needle. I stare at my own arm for a second face twisted up while I try to decide which vein to try for, backwards no less, and in my own arm…

It takes me two tries, gritting my teeth the whole time before I find the vein, watch the blood flow into the first tube filling it. I have to fiddle with the plastic cap for a few moments trying to disconnect the tube without moving the needle in my arm; the whole experience is making me a little light headed. I haven't eaten in over 24 hours now, which can't be helping.

I slow breathe my way through the next four vials before filling a donation bag as well, if I can't come up with any other ideas and I get truly desperate I might try that.

God knows if the virus doesn't kill him though my blood might.

I pull the needle from my arm and sit with my forehead pressed against the cool countertop surface breathing my way through a wave of nausea. Okay, I definitely need to find something to eat.

When the spinning has slowed to a slight disorientation when I turn my head I figure it's safe to stand; very slowly. I brace myself against the counter while I press a Hello Kitty band aid over the cotton ball covering the needle hole just inside of my elbow; because Hello Kitty makes everything better.

Obviously.

That and I wasn't about to walk around with a Jonas Brothers band aid. I don't care if the world already ended.

I put the vials into the centrifuge and close the lid, turning it on. Then I pop the bag of my blood into the mini-fridge I plugged into a red emergency outlet previously.

And now I need to find food before I check on Carl again.

There's a vending machine just outside the lab, down the hall stuck back in a little alcove by the non-functioning elevator doors. I passed it earlier sweeping the hallways, it looked fully stocked at a glance; with any luck some of it is still edible. Especially seeing as I'm going on almost thirty hours without food now and I'll no doubt be up half the night in the lab. With Carl in the shape he's currently in I can't exactly make a supply run; he could die before I make it back.

I pick up a chair from the nurse's station around the corner it's the padded seat and back square wooden frame kind that usually belongs in a patient's room. I carry it down the hall with me until I'm standing about five feet from the vending machine.

I throw the chair into the glass. It slams into the clear solid surface with a loud _BANG_ before falling to the ground missing an armrest now—I stare down at the cracked wooden L shaped arm rest that skittered across the floor when it exploded on impact coming to rest by my boots and burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

They always make things like this look so easy in movies. In real life, not so much. In real life vending machines were built to withstand a simple bump…and an act of attempted vandalism.

I wander further down the hall until I find a fire extinguisher. I snap the plastic locking cap with a quick downward pull of my fingers noticing the inspection date on the tag now long overdue.

Good thing the fire marshal isn't around.

I slide it from its frame on the wall. Then I carry it back down the hallway pushing the broken chair aside with my foot so I can stand directly in front of the glass once more.

I have to smash it against the glass several times before it splinters and finally cracks into several large pieces falling out of its frame enough for me to reach my hand inside without risking a nasty cut. I gather the contents inside into the empty pillow case I brought with me when I first threw the chair and head back down the hall with my sack of goodies to check on Carl again.

I dump the items on to the rolling table next to the window; punching a clear plastic straw through one of the tiny juice boxes I stole from the supply room earlier. Since they don't contain much actual juice they take a long time to expire. My blood stream needs the sugar.

I pick through the items I liberated from behind the glass trying to decide what sounds good on an un-godly empty stomach. I don't think I've ever been so hungry in my life; even though I know that can't be true. I had weeks; hell months of living just like this; find-to-find, scavenging for everything: once upon a time this had been my life.

It seems like a lifetime ago now. I guess in a way it kind of is.

I feel like I've lived three separate lives in my one.

There was my life before; everyone had one of those; thought about it from time to time; or tried like hell to never think about it...

There was my life just after it all went to Hell: hungry, alone, running scared at first before finding my way slowly; adapting every lesson my Uncle had drilled into us so that I could survive. I'd been alright when I met Carl on the roadside that cool fall afternoon.

I didn't need them to survive; but something drew me towards them regardless. I spent the first few days after I met them second guessing that decision on the roadway; wondering if I'd lost my damn mind. Taking a chance on them; it was the craziest most dangerous thing I'd done in a long time. Maybe I did it because I was starting to wonder what the point was anymore. Just surviving alone wasn't really living. Not like it used to be. It got incredibly lonely after a while.

Maybe I'd taken on a lot more then I'd originally bargained for. I can't stop the small smile from twisting at my lips as I pick my fingers over the candy bar's Mika would light up seeing. I'd thought it was just Rick and Carl those first few days; Carl reminded me so much of Tobin it made my chest ache just looking at him. And then I thought maybe we'd just add in Daryl and Beth; and I could deal with that.

Beth was sweet and kind, soft in every way. While Daryl gave me a bit more pause; set me off balance. He felt more like a prickly pear; a barely contained ornery wild animal they'd just started to domesticate.

I grin, let my eyes flutter shut for a moment thinking back to the way he bristled every time I got near. I know why _now_; but back _then_ I'd had no idea; and it had driven me nuts.

God, those first few days alone in the woods… I wasn't positive we weren't going to beat the crap out of each other after one of us said the wrong thing… or just run in the opposite directions screaming maybe; never looking back.

I can still close my eyes and remember with perfect clarity like it was yesterday the terrifying and exhilarating flutter of a hundred butterflies in my stomach every time I'd look up and catch him watching me, see him flush and look away...

But then there was Judith and Michonne and Maggie. There was Glenn and Sasha, Tyreese and Mika and little Molly and finally Carol. And before I knew it I was so tangled up in every part of them that I didn't know how to step back; and with Daryl…_God_.

I didn't think I wanted to, didn't know how to even try…

Daryl was like the pull of gravity; somehow in those first few days I got hopelessly trapped in his orbit… couldn't wrench myself away.

Every time I thought I had him figured out; felt like I'd solved the mystery that was Daryl Dixon he'd throw me for another loop. Drag me back down all over again; until one day I'd looked around and realized I was so upside down over him I didn't know which way was up anymore.

I lean against the wall my pony tail bumping into the blinds over the window shifting them so sunlight peeks over my shoulder, lights a sliver of the floor with bright yellow before slipping back into place again.

I guess in truth I've lived four lives, because now here I was; left in a life _without_ him.

I don't know what kind of life this might turn out to be… it's been scarcely more than a day…but it stings, aches and blisters my insides twisting with the pain. This new life doesn't feel like a good one.

I turn my head and stare at Carl's deathly silent form; the only movement the soft rise and fall of his chest; the barely noticeable flicker of his eyes under their lids. He's dreaming again. I hope they're good dreams. And if they're not I can only hope that he won't remember them when he wakes.

I close my eyes lean my head back even though it means I'm bumping the blinds again. The small strip of warm sun over my bare shoulder reminds me of warm fingers making my throat threaten to close off.

I jerk forward away from the window hearing the blinds clink shut behind me while I grab one of the candy bars and unwrap it moving to sit on the chair beside Carl's bed.

I stare at his monitor as I take small bites, chew and swallow mindlessly. Surprised that despite how hungry I've felt the last few hours my stomach churns as the chocolate hits it.

I barely make it up out of the chair and into the bathroom before it comes back up in violent coughing retches that water my eyes and make my nose run. I lean my palms against the toilet seat breathing slowly in through my mouth and out through my nose while my stomach rolls under my ribs.

When it seems whatever fit possessed it has passed I straighten back up, run the tap in the sink and rinse my mouth swishing and spitting several times before turning it off and moving back into the other room. Maybe I'm getting sick.

I frown picking up the half-finished wrapper, turning it over in my hands searching the printed label carefully.

It's expired, but just barely so. That must be it.

I toss the remaining bit into the trashcan with a heavy plunk and drag my fingers through my hair sighing. I don't feel particularly hungry anymore, just tired.

I move toward the bed pull the bandage back on Carl's leg, the wound is even angrier looking then it was just a few short hours ago. I sigh, lean my palms against the bed rail taking slow deep breaths. I've got to do _something._ Antibiotics aren't working; it's just getting worse.

I frown; find myself clenching my jaw repeatedly chewing on my bottom lip just like I've watched him do too many times. What the Hell. I don't know what else to try.

I leave Carl's room and move back down the hallway through the double doors to the stairwell. I take the stairs one at a time in the dark my hand pressed to the wall as I loop around the U shape to the next landing exiting on the lab floor where I can retrieve the blood I took earlier. I pull it out of the fridge quickly pulling one of the vials out of the centrifuge to run tests on when I get back.

I make it back to Carl's room a little slower a bit more careful on the stairs this time since I'm going up them in the dark and not down.

I stand over his bed holding the blood bag frowning for another few moments trying to decide whether this is truly crazy or not.

They bite me and they die.

I've seen it.

The second they draw my blood they react violently; convulsing and jerking away…that's got to mean _something_.

I pull the bandage off Carl's leg cursing at the state of his wound in just a few short hours since I cleaned it, biting my lip anxiously before drawing up a syringe full of my blood from the bag and hesitating over the wound in his leg my hand shaking. It's not like I can make his wound that much worse; and I'm not putting it directly into his blood stream…so any reaction should be localized… I close my eyes for a brief second, try to tell myself that this isn't that crazy; it's just like blood spinning to treat an open wound with plasma; except this isn't Carl's blood it's Mine, and it's not plasma it's pure blood. I pause a moment longer and then open them dripping a few bright red drops onto the deep bite into the muscle of his leg.

It reacts immediately.

The blood or something in the bite sizzling and bubbling like I've poured hydrogen peroxide on a dirty wound. I jerk my eyes to the monitor but his vitals don't change; even after nearly five minutes of watching and waiting so I do it again; and wait.

The third time my blood no longer spits and hisses when it comes in contact with the wound. When I press my palm to his calf ready to re-clean and re-wrap it I swear his skin feels cool to the touch again. The heat gone from it completely; and okay that's something it _has_ to be.

I use the rest of the blood on his side and neck the same way constantly checking the monitors when I'm finished sometime later if anything his blood pressure and heart rate are better than they were before.

And now I have a new goal. I move back down the hallway to the lab.

I've got to figure out whatever it is in my blood and _exactly how_ that's killing them.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, which sucks. But this story is mine! :)

**Notes**: I forgot to mention in the previous chapters (I'm a terrible person) Huge thanks to my Beta and general insanity cohort _Angelinaa_! You lady are awesome, you rock hardcore! xD

Since I was so remiss in adding that as punishment I am posting another chapter! Sorry Lina! :O

Thank you guys for the reviews and PM's you guys are amazingly fun to write for! Keep it coming please! It's great for the muse! :)

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**Chapter Three **

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_Alarms are going off behind the curtain. Hospital staff are shouting instructions and barking orders almost drowning out the snarling growls making my skin crawl, prickle with unease. _

"_What the Hell is going on in there?" I can feel my eyes darting back to the moving curtain; trying to understand the sounds behind it even as I turn my head to the order clerk sitting behind the desk. He looks up from his computer screen face pinched in disgust. _

"_If I had to guess Cupcake? I'd say it's one of those tweekers they keep putting on the news. Guy in there's all hopped up on those bath salts or PCP or something fierce. They've been trying to sedate him for almost ten minutes now…" _

_We both turn back to the curtain faces doubtful when a particularly enraged snarl echoes down the hall followed by one of the nurses cursing up a storm. The nearest nurse rolling back from his desk draws our attention back to the pod. _

"_Yeah, I think Doc Harper's about ready to call the zoo. Have them just send over those guys with elephant guns." He mimes holding a shotgun in his seat leveling its imaginary barrel at the closed curtain across the hall firing off two fake rounds with his own sound effects._

"_Don't you let Silvia from admin catch you doing that Sugar, She'll have your butt written up for violence in the work place."_

_The nurse snorts in derision both of them rolling their eyes dramatically before he twisting his chair back around scooting back towards his desk pushing with his feet leaving our conversation once more to the two of us._

_The order clerk turns back to me. "You one of those new interns?"_

"_Fresh Meat!" A passing nurse chimes over his shoulder grinning at me and winking while he drops another heavy stack of clipboards containing yellow slips that must be lab orders and pharmacy requests onto the clerks desk._

"_Now what the Hell is this?" He turns away from me again waving his hand at the new stack. "Do you not see me working my tail off here people? Come on." He turns back to me snapping his fingers between us impatiently. "Well, clearly I haven't got all night Sugar these patient's aren't going to see themselves; what Service are you so I can set you up with something?"_

"_Uh…" I push a few loose strands behind my ear. "Family Medicine?"_

_He stares at me leaning back in his seat making the chair creak. "Good Lord, and they stuck you down here first week overnight? Threw you to the wolves didn't they Honey? Here take this: kids puking in twenty-two. Think you can handle that?"_

"_Uh yeah, sure." There's a large commotion behind the curtain again, two security guards racing down the hall dive behind it._

"_Good, Now when you're done there come see me again; I'll keep you alive. That's my job."_

_He's already staring at the next order in his hands, shouting over his shoulder to the whole Emergency room. _

"_Alright, who didn't sign this? What you guys think Percocet rains from the sky? Not without a signed order it don't. Mallory… Where's Nurse Mallory? Here get this order back to Doctor Teger and tell him to do it right this time. Thank You Sunshine. I swear this place would fall apart without me. Don't you forget to sign your orders now."_

"_Yeah, I won't..." I start to move away jerked back to the desk stopped mid-stride when he grabs my arm yanking my face close to his lowering his voice for the first time since I've met the man._

"_Listen, between you and me Sugar; Don't go near Room Two. It's not just drugs; I've seen a lot the last twenty years; keep thinking I've seen it all, But that right there? It'll put the Fear of God into you."_

_He lets me go just as quickly. "Right, Thanks." _

_I have to force myself not to cross to the far side of the hallway when I walk past the curtain listening to the growling snarl still coming from the other side._

* * *

I lay still in the darkness, scarcely breathing; listening to the steady rhythmic press of the ventilator to my left. The slow reassuring _beep beep beep_ tracking his still beating heart without having to turn my head.

My own heart is racing.

Something woke me.

I'm just not sure what. The possibilities seize in my chest, kick my pulse into another frantic rush in my ears.

I shift as quietly as I can on the stretcher's mattress; turn my head to stare at the darkness cloaking the room in nothing but faint outlines of furniture and the muffled glow of Carl's heart monitor covered with a pillowcase to mute the light. The longer I stare into the darkness the more shadows dance and shift before my eyes momentarily converging in the darkness into nightmarish forms that stop my heartbeat before snapping back into the sterile reality of an empty room.

Maybe it was a dream that woke me. I've had nothing but nightmares since that day on the road. My nights and a large portion of my days are now consumed with fit-filled unrest that leaves me each time feeling more exhausted and heavy then I was before I closed my eyes.

I can't stop reliving it; all those _final_ moments, they blur and melt morphing into the perfect agony with scenes of Abby and Thomas and Tobin, always ending on that highway now; seeing his outline hearing him call my name… but in my nightmares now when they turn on each other the first one they destroy is _me._

I shudder, draw in a heavy breath taking in the whole of the room once more; satisfied that it must be a dream that pulled me back to reality this time. I've just closed my eyes again shifted on the mattress ignoring the creak of the steel tube frame when I hear it again.

A simple burst of unmistakable static and a muffled voice.

I jerk upright so hard the stretcher clunks against the wall despite the locked wheels. I silently curse the sound even though it's no louder than the beep and continuous wheeze of Carl's equipment; which can hardly be silenced.

I stare at the door still firmly closed, my heart pounding in my chest hard enough to break my ribs. I'm straining to hear it again, the silence stretches on in the hallway beyond the door.

Maybe I imagined it? Maybe I'm still dreaming. I slide to the floor on bare feet, cringe at the squeak of the stretchers frame and mattress as even my slight weight shifts.

_How did I not notice how noisy the damn thing was before this?_

I bend forward grab the handle of my machete, slip it from its sheath silently and move towards the door. I time my footfalls with the steady muffled beeps of the monitor already echoing in the room. When I reach the door I press my back against the wall beside it, pause there listening once again intently for any sound on the other side. Straining to pick up even the faintest traces of life; or not life in the hallway outside.

I count my heartbeats while I wait. When I reach a hundred and there is still nothing I reach slowly for the handle; pry the door open wincing at the heavy click of the latch I can't avoid no matter how slowly I turn the handle. I stare out into the dark empty hallway for another full minute.

No walkers, No people.

I sigh after another moment; press the door shut with my hands again trying to keep it quiet now out of habit more than fear that someone or something will overhear it.

I spin to face the room at my back heart leaping into my throat.

There it is again.

I'm searching the darkness when a small reflection of green flashes against the floor only visible from this angle in the room; which is how I missed it before… The small green hued light pulses in the far corner under the window drawing my attention further. I move closer, kneel down and realize I'm holding Carl's jeans in the darkness.

His walkie talkie flashes in the back pocket where it's still somehow clipped securely while mine is long gone; lost on the roadside.

I pull it out with one hand tossing his ruined clothes forgotten back to the floor while I stare at the flashing beacon in the darkness that surrounds me.

I should press the button, let them know I'm here; let them know that Carl is alive…at least for now.

Dread claws at the tight knots twisted around my insides. The bowling ball in my throat swells pressing against my vocal cords, choking out any hope for sound—making it almost impossible just to breath past the strangling pressure.

_What the Hell would I even say?_

The burst of static makes me jump; nearly dropping the box to the floor.

"Fin? Are you there?" Mika's voice fills the darkness burns the spaces behind my eyes.

_Do I answer?_

I press the button hear the soft beep signaling my response and open my mouth but nothing comes out; not even air. My eyes burn blurring the darkness as I let the button go again, press the back of my hand to my lips struggling not to choke on the air my lungs can't seem to get enough of in gasping greedy swallows that ache all the way down, roar back out with panting hitches refusing to stay long enough to ease the burning behind my ribs.

I drop back to the floor, wrap one arm around my knees keeping my cheek pressed to my thigh gasping for air. Trying to ignore the shake of my hands; the tremble working its way up my whole frame quickly turning into whole body shudders that I refuse to acknowledge as sobs.

"I know you're there. It's okay; no one else knows what to say either…"

A bitter bark of laughter claws out of my chest riding on a sob I can no longer ignore; can't contain when it feels like my chest is exploding with it.

I drop the walkie to the floor with a heavy clatter, press both hands over my face trying to muffle the sounds.

Because I can only imagine what is being said on the other end.

"Is he alive? Please tell me he's alive, you have to bring him back."

Static fills the space between my gasping breaths.

Eventually she falls silent and the static stops leaving me alone to fight to breath around the great heaving fits seizing my lungs; squeezing the life out of my heart while my throat closes up and I can't find any more tears left to cry.

I pull myself up off the floor leaning heavily on the rail of Carl's bed while he sleeps on; blessedly oblivious to the pain of the world I live in. I set the silent walkie on Carl's nightstand as dawn is greying the room, peeking around the edges of the blinds and the heavy blanket draped over its frame. I lay back down closing my eyes, not even bothering with a wet washcloth to cover my swollen eyes. I just stare at the ceiling for a long while watching the light creep in before the pounding in my head becomes too much and I turn my back to the room bury my face in the blankets and pray for the darkness to take me back.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead :: **


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own TWD, just this story line and my OC's

**Notes: **Massive thanks to my Beta Angelinaa, (as always! Oh trust me, you know you wanna look! HAHA *wink*)

And huge thanks to the readers/reviewers you guys are awesome!

This update is for enchantmentanjel who ALSO doesn't know what day of the week it is; Which cracked me the Hell up and since I have to look about every five minutes to remind myself I thought such lunacy should be rewarded...so...BOOM! Update. A day early. You're welcome. HA! ; P

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**Rated M!** This is a pretty graphic chapter...(though maybe not for this genre's fans)...but warnings for potential icky, bloody, walker descriptions...

anyways, ENJOY!...Which in hindsight is probably the wrong sentiment for this Chappie... O_o

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**Chapter Four**

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_The warm night air presses against my skin; makes me feel damp and sticky the moment I'm through the double doors no longer under the influence of the forced cold air inside the Emergency room hallway. _

_The sun isn't up yet, but the sky over the tree line is just starting to grey, fog presses around the parking lot turning cars and SUV's into nothing more than hulking masses colorless and vague in the distance. _

_By the time the sun rises enough to split through the trees the fog will have burned off; another sweltering day well underway for everyone else. I tug my backpack strap higher against my shoulder and trudge tiredly up the sidewalk towards the lot where interns are allowed to park._

_I'm just rounding the corner of the building stepping off the curb into the empty ambulance bay when he hits me. Growling snarls fill my ear for a split second before searing white hot pain tears through my shoulder, hands grab at my tank top scratching my stomach pawing violently at me while teeth tear through the cotton. I scream jerking my elbow up bashing my attacker in the face wrenching him off me gasping in agony when his teeth take half the skin over my shoulder and upper arm with him. _

_I stagger in pain and disbelief tripping and stumbling backwards until my back makes contact with the brick wall of the building stopping me. My fingers clutched to my bleeding shoulder staring wide eyed at what I tripped over…or who…_

"_Get away from me!" But he doesn't, he's staggering towards me again; gait the most un-natural un-coordinated jerking motion I've ever seen…his feet don't even line up turned out pigeon toed; his knees bent awkwardly in at odd angles while he snaps his teeth at me in obvious threat. _

_I jerk myself off the wall before he reaches me; pins me in—try not to think about the sounds of the guy earlier in the night; how it took four guards and two nurses to subdue him enough to get him in restraints; and then to try to start a line to sedate him before he disappeared from the Emergency Room and nobody seemed to know where he was taken..._

_I drive my fist into his stomach grab his shoulders and smash my knee into his gut hoping to stun him enough that I can get away get help… he doesn't go down though it doesn't even seem to wind him and how is that possible his teeth tear at my arm, fingers breaking the skin on my sides digging into me clawing while I reel and jerk back kicking out in outrage and panic. _

_Blood runs down my elbow and forearm dripping onto the concrete I jerk backwards diving away from him getting a good look at what I can only describe as a half-eaten mutilated body wearing an blood stained and ripped EMT uniform hanging from the back step of the Ambulance that missed the parking spot it was aiming for; jumped the curb completely and crumpled it's front end against the brick wall steam pouring up from the rippled bowed hood. _

_I jerk around the front of another parked ambulance, dive behind the wheel well my eyes darting to my shoulder stomach turning at the torn bloody edges of my skin. I lean there gasping for air, heart pounding in my chest when they lurch around the front corner of the hood…both of them._

_The guy who bite me…and the EMT guy who was dead just moments before…and no. That can't be right… but it is; he's stumbling towards me part of his intestines hanging from the hole in his uniform like a sausage loop. I jerk backwards away from the ambulance, backing toward the clear parking lot, and there is no way this is happening… _

_This is the stuff of nightmares, science fiction; horror movies… _

_I reach over and pinch my blood slicked arm because that's what you're supposed to do right? When you're dreaming and you desperately want to wake up? _

_Only it doesn't do a damn thing, but the throbbing ache of agony in my shoulder and arm is getting worse. _

_I'm starting to feel nauseous and that might be because the dead-EMT-who-isn't-dead-anymore just stepped on his own intestines while stumbling after me. Effectively eviscerating the rest of his insides onto the pavement in a blood splattering rush that squelches onto the pavement…_

_Part of his small intestines wrapped around his shoe dragging behind him over the concrete and he doesn't even pause… _

_I gag and retch cursing feeling my head shake in denial because real or not—that is the most horrifying thing I've ever seen… if this is a nightmare I want to wake up now. I find myself repeating it like a mantra frantically while I shudder in revulsion and back further away. _

"_Wake up now, wake up now, It's not real…" _

_Only I'm not waking up and with the stabbing sharp throb in my shoulder that seems to go all the way to the bone it feels very, very real… _

_I'm past the open ambulance bay door now empty of the body currently pursuing me. _

_I need something a weapon, only what the hell do you use on somebody that is so drugged up they somehow manage to keep coming at you after they've ripped their own insides out?! _

_My heel strikes someone's chest and I jerk screaming expecting this body to lunge at me too…except it doesn't….it just lays there its sleeve ripped and bloody while the rest of its uniform is intact… and why wouldn't this body get up…there's less damage to it than the other one…My eyes dart to the pursuing EMT; his teeth snapping at me around snarls… _

_His head is intact; whoever this is fell out of the back of the ambulance when the bay doors opened; landed head first on the concrete; the creeping puddle around his dented skull spreads undisturbed but for the bloody dragging footprint that staggers away from the scene; probably the EMT's boot print…_

_Why, why didn't he get up? _

_The head injury… the brain. _

_I reach inside the ambulance doorway; leap onto the blood slicked steel grated step grabbing the door handle bar for support with my good arm, eyes searching for something…anything that will let me…There. I wrap my good hand around the metal pole first responders use to tighten the bindings over open pelvis fractures so they can transport them to the hospital. Then I leap back to the pavement just ahead of the guys hands grabbing for me mid-air. _

_I turn the second I land swing the two inch heavy steel bar like a baseball bat grunting in pain as the movement rips through the already overwhelming pain in my shoulder. The bar connects mid-swing with the guy's face; smashes his nose in, sends his head snapping backwards. _

_I don't wait for him to fall. I step forward twisting into the second arc smashing the EMT's face the same way. Then I spin back to the first guy already trying to stagger up and raise the pole like a golf club over my shoulder swing down and clubbing him in the back of the head knocking him to the pavement with a spray of blood that arcs far enough to paint the side of the Ambulance with trickles of bright red._

_The EMT is staggering, twitching his fingers lock around my ankle and I jerk leaping backwards shrieking and stumble very nearly falling backwards. And that can't happen because slow or not if this thing sinks its teeth into me again; gets its hands on my skin I can only imagine how long it will take it to rip me to shreds. I bring the pole down repeatedly in a wild panic against the guy's head until blood spreads around him in a droplet ringed puddle. I back away from them gasping, choke back a panicked and horrified sob at what I've just done._

_I've just killed two people…_

_Because no one will believe me that they were already dead…_

_I drop the pole to the pavement with a loud metallic clatter as it rolls away from me a few feet. I press my palms over my knees bent double and gasp feeling dizzy from pain and lack of oxygen, my vision darkening around the edges. _

_I press it down; try to calm myself gulping in three large steadying breaths holding each one for a moment before I blow it out again. _

_I can't hyperventilate right now… I need to go back inside; find the police…tell somebody….except I don't move. _

_I just keep standing here staring at the ever spreading pool of blood on the pavement almost reaching my shoes now; listening to my pound of my racing heartbeat in my ears. _

_My eyes slide to my broken skin, to the gaping wound in my arm the teeth marks weeping blood over my collarbone against my the dark cotton of my tank top strap. Fear claws at me again, prickles along my skin in warning. _

_I stare at the EMT…at the bite mark on his neck…at the gaping hole where his insides ripped out. My skin prickles over my spine and a cold sweat from my earlier exertion and fear trickles down from the small of my back. _

_I can hear a police siren over the pounding of rush of blood in my ears, several in fact. _

_I jerk my black fleece jacket from around my waist curse and hiss sliding my hands into the sleeves, jerking it up over my shoulder as quickly and carefully as possible hiding my injuries my fingers unsteady and shaking as I zip it up ignoring the damp humidity already pressing against my skin; The thin cotton of my shirt clings to the sweat on my lower back, presses against my skin under the fleece a combination of exertion and fear._

_I step away from the bodies, climb as quickly as I can with one good arm back into the Ambulance grabbing a bottle of hydrogen peroxide I stuff under my armpit and a bag of saline fluid I don't even bother climbing back out of the ambulance, there's no time. I rip the cap off the brown bottle dousing my blood soaked hands with the clear fluid watching it foam and fizzle over my skin eating away at the blood discoloring my skin. _

_I keep pouring it over them until it runs clear, then I quickly douse my shoes, biting the cap off the saline bag and squirting a heavy stream of clear liquid over their surface rinsing the obvious blood from them. I'm lucky my scrubs pants are black like my jacket, it's almost impossible to see the blood splattered across them in the pre-dawn light unless you look really closely._

_I drop the saline bag to the now empty blood soaked sheet on the stretcher inside the vehicle, and leap back out onto the pavement. Quickly race to where I dropped my bag by the corner when the guy grabbed me the first time and snatch it up, sliding it over my ruined shoulder with a heavy pained grunt; grinding my teeth. _

_I grip my book bag strap and move away from the ambulance's bay just as three cop cars swing into view, a large olive green military convoy truck behind it. _

_Guys with severe looking crew cuts in military fatigues pour out of the back of the canvas covered vehicle at the same time the cops leap from their cars guns all drawn. _

_I jerk my hands into the air too terrified to pay any mind to the motion shooting white hot jabs of pain down my arm…I can feel my sleeve slowly soaking, blood trickling down to my armpit under the fleece to soak into my under shirt. _

_I'm certain they're coming to arrest me for killing two people…except they're yelling at me to get out of the way. One of them grabs me by my good arm, thank god; hauls me away from the bleeding bodies on the ground asking me if I'm alright, and was I bitten?_

_All the hairs on the back of my neck stand up while I shake my head no; stammer my answer before asking him what is going on. But he's already passing me off to someone else; and now somebody else repeats the question. _

_A large man in army fatigues with close cropped hair and a pinched severe looking face. I shake my head no staring at the assault rifle in his hand… because who takes an M16 to an ambulance crash…? _

_But then he's passing me off to someone else, they're moving me farther and farther away from the building as more vehicles arrive; surround us and people are running and there's shouting all around me. _

_And every time someone hands me off to someone of less importance as new personnel arrives it's the _same _question over and over again; 'Were you bitten, did they touch you?' and not 'Did you kill those men?' and it's all a rushing buzz; static and white noise as someone races by us with gasoline containers in their hands and it seems like a strange time to refuel a vehicle when there's a gas station not two blocks away…. _

_Men are shouting and yelling and I can hear a helicopter from somewhere up in the fog… Someone's hand is still on my arm busy dragging me backwards farther away asking me my name and have I had contact with the infected but I don't answer. _

_I'm too busy craning my head back; watching the plum of acrid black smoke rising up against the grey morning sky burning off with the fog. _

_The ambulance is on fire…two smaller trails of smoke join the largest and they're burning the bodies…not investigating who killed them and that doesn't make any sense, and it certainly doesn't help the rolling gnawing dread in the pit of my stomach._

_They tell me to 'stay here, they'll be right back,' and I nod but I don't wait. I keep moving. Certain as I have ever been of anything in my life that if I remain and they find out I've been bitten there will be one more body burning to ashes on the blood soaked pavement right outside the hospital doors… _

_The second they turn away I slip across the lot; ducking between the jeeps pulling in and the soldiers rushing past and no one stops me. No one even notices as orders are barked all around and I reach the first line of parked cars and break into a run the fog curling around my calves as I race away, swirling behind my back in my wake while all around me fog drifts off the top of dew speckled car roofs and hoods like thin wisps of white smoke without the flames, miniature parodies of the acrid black smoke choking out my view of half the hospital's brick side when I glance over my shoulder still running._

_I reach my car unlock the door with shaking hands and climb inside just as the gunshots start somewhere back in the fog. _

* * *

Alarms are going off jerking me up from the heavy darkness of sleep.

I'm halfway across the room before I've taken in the information on the monitors, processed their meaning.

I press my hand to his forehead; confirming my fear: his skin is on fire again. I grab more chemical ice packs from the drawer activate them in my hands and lay them on his skin, hoping to offer him some relief even asleep. Then I grab the empty syringe upturning the right bottle and filling it with the dosage I need.

I press the medicine into his IV checking the lines quickly and hanging another bag while I work. Keeping him hydrated and lowering his temperature is only half the battle. I've got to stop the infection that's steadily killing him.

I take his temperature and curse frowning at the read out because right now I've got to get his fever back down or it's all going to be over very quickly. I leave his room moving down the hall to the ICU supply closet to find the pale blue cooling blanket in the light coming through the small window.

It's tucked away rolled carefully on one of the shelves high above my head. I climb to reach it, grabbing the sizeable pack and cords that comes with it stopping at the large utility sink in the hallway to fill the tank with water. I lug it all back down the short awkward distance to Carl's room ignoring the way the heavy tank bangs against my side hard enough to bruise.

I plug it in setting the tank on the cleared nightstand, rolling Carl up carefully and swapping out his sweat soaked sheets, adding the pale blue square already cool to the touch of my fingers against his back. I swap the rest of his linen out for dry sheets and blankets adding a wet cold washcloth to his face more because it makes _me_ feel better than for any extra cooling properties it offers.

I sigh leaning against the bedrail stretching my stiff back eyes closed listening to the beep of his heart monitor slowly decline again. I add another bag of IV fluids, I need to keep him hydrated especially with the high fever. Then I move back down the hall pulling his door shut behind me.

I wish the lab was closer to the ward where I've got Carl set up, but there's nothing I can do about it—short of carrying hundreds of pounds of equipment up the stairs.

I sweep the rest of the hospital's hallways quickly on my way down, check for any Walkers I missed the last few days or signs that other people have been here since.

The lab equipment draws a lot of power, but it's unavoidable if there's even going to be a _chance_ of Carl living. I drop onto the rolling stool near the table, press my palms to my temples staring at the printouts scattered on the flat black surface wracking my brain for the answer… any slim chance; some small hope to hold onto.

That chance is feeling slimmer and slimmer by the hour.

_I've rarely felt so helpless._

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own any of the property associated with TWD comic book or AMC's creation of the same name (cause they really are two very different beasts at this point) I do own this story line and the OC's since I came up with them; but I make no profit from this insanity and anyone who plans to sue me will basically get some used cookware and an angry toddler who is currently covered in grape jelly...

**Notes: **It's Spaghetti Tuesday! ** (Update TIME!)**

Thanks to Beta Angelinaa and to the readers, reviewers you guys are all awesome!

Kudos to PumpkinMama for coining the term Finryl! *dies* How did I not think of that!? I Love It! 3

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**Chapter Five**

It's been less than 72 hours.

I don't know what else to do. Time is running out.

I stand beside Carl's bed, my fingers posed over the roller stopping the flow of fluid from continuing down the line into his IV. My eyes drift to the heart monitor again, slide over his pale patchy skin, sallow cheeks. His responses are slowing, his fever spiked once more dangerously high no matter what I do to stop it.

He's dying; and he's doing it far too quickly for me to figure this out.

Carl is slipping away right in front of me. Nothing I've tried seems to slow his downward spiral for long. I've merely prolonged what is starting to feel like the inevitable…

I tilt my chin, stare up at the blurry square tiles over my head fighting the burn of tears and roll the stopper up before pulling my hand away quickly lest I can change my mind.

It's time for a Hail Mary; because that's all this is.

I don't know what else to do. This is a complete stab in the dark.

If the infection doesn't kill him in the next hour. Whatever mystery compound is in my bloodstream that I can't identify certainly will…

I close my eyes for a moment wondering if I should have picked up the Walkie the other day; begged them to bring Judith here so I could see if the same compound is in her blood…maybe it's the answer… but there's no time; and I doubt Rick would willingly hand over Judith for me to run even a simple blood test on.

If he saw me again he'd probably shoot me between the eyes for taking his son.

My eyes drift to the thick liquid sliding theatrically slow down the narrow clear tube seeming to crawl and at the same time race toward the catheter in his elbow where it colors the cap as it passes; slides into his vein and I can't take it back now—it's done.

All I can do is watch and wait. Pray, for all the good it will do.

I back into the chair at his bedside, press my palms over my eyes and lean forward feeling sick while I wait for his heart beat to slow; or start to race—wait for alarms to start blaring telling me I've killed him; or the infection has… At this point I won't really know I guess which was the final catalyst, but either way I'll have to live with the blame; the ever pressing guilt of not being able to save another life.

It's my own private repeating nightmare in this world.

My Mom and Tobin…Phil…Abby they're all dead. Even Thomas who seemed so strong and capable when we met, I was certain he'd survive; at least for a little while… but he died too…right after he let me go.

He snuck me out in the middle of the night; told me to run…and run I did—without looking back, terrified they'd find me again. Two days later I saw him; dead.

I should have taken him with me, should have stayed to help him fight…I should have done something other then what I did which was ru;, just run away—I saved myself; and he died.

They killed him for letting me go. It was obvious from the way he was strung up. It was an early lesson on the potential evil mankind would accept in the name of fear, and hatred and survival...

It became one of my first real encounters with such vile acts—sadly it wouldn't be the last, far from it; and the lessons only got harder and tougher to swallow as time wore on.

So many faces… and names and sometimes I just wish it would end.

I pull my knees up onto the chair wrap my arms around my shins clasping my hands over my elbows and rest my face against my knee closing my eyes.

I stay that way for a long time listening to the slow beep of his heart rate; praying silently—anxiously to a God I'm not even sure exists anymore; not after all the horror I've seen.

Eventually my exhaustion and the steady beep lulls me into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Hours later I jerk awake in panic the crick in my neck something outrageous. I struggle to lift my head, focus on the monitors beside me startled and elated to see he's still alive… and not only that: he's improved. And it shouldn't be possible, it's ridiculous, but there it is. And I'm not one to question results.

I pour over the books I've gathered again now spread across nearly every flat surface in the room. Books stacked on the rolling table weighing it down so it barely rolls without squeaking in protest and gathering in an ever growing tower near the door almost as tall as my knees.

My jerking distracted movements nearly ripping pages from their bindings in my haste to turn them faster eyes scanning; searching: desperate to understand how that could have worked…what it means…

Two hours later when his vitals decline again I return to the lab downstairs, repeat the process even though pulling that much blood again so soon makes me so dizzy I puke into the sink retching and dry heaving for five minutes while the blood spins down.

I barely make it back up the stairs without blacking out, desperately wishing the elevator worked sweating and breathing much too fast.

My fingers shake when I hang the bag nearly missing the hook. It takes me two tries to puncture the cap with the line; to get my fingers to cooperate and stop shaking long enough to screw the cover into place.

I open the line and stagger backwards, all but collapsing onto my stretcher with a grunt that's neither lady-like nor particularly dignified and if it was a fluke; if this sends him into seizures or spiraling into shock there's absolutely nothing I can do because I'm so weak I can't get the room into focus… I can barely make out his pulse and latest blood pressure rating from the screen everything is so fuzzy.

I close my eyes against the spinning tilt of the room and breathe slowly though my mouth trying to keep the waves of nausea at bay—there's nothing in my stomach to throw up anyways.

* * *

When I wake up several hours later, my stomach and sense of balance protests even the small turn of my head to check Carl's vitals. I carefully raise my hand and knead the muscles of my still aching neck with my fingertips as firmly as I can manage in my current state while I staring groggily at the screen on the far side of the dang room.

I need to check him.

I drag myself up with exaggerated slowness; trying to fight the darkness curling around the edges of my vision. It takes me what feels like eons to cross the short distance of the room to his bedside. But it's completely worth the journey.

Carl's fever is almost gone, his skin no longer slick with sweat; his color returning.

I need to repeat the dosage; but I'm not positive with the way I feel that that is even possible, that doing so won't cause me to pass out completely or go into shock. I already feel like I'm going to die, wavering on my feet barely maintain my balance.

I need to eat…and rest and then maybe in the morning I can spare half a dose to give him.

Food and sleep, that will help.

I force myself to eat a small bag of stale pretzels, then unsalted peanuts because everything that's sweet lately seems to only make my stomach feel worse and then I choke down two juice boxes. My stomach twists at the combination but it stays down. I barely make it back to my own bed before I start to feel very faint again.

I lie down tucking my legs up into a ball I can hug against my chest breathing slowly still fighting the tilting buckle of the room around me closing my eyes tight hoping to stop the disorientation if I can't see it.

It doesn't help, I just continue to spin and jerk certain at any moment I'm going to tumble to the ground falling off my bed and spinning away into the angry darkness.

Eventually the wild movement turns into a more gentle rolling wave that lulls me into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep.

* * *

Two hours after the third treatment the following morning when I drag myself up from my bed to check him I find that Carl's fever is gone.

I still don't know what the Hell it is, can't isolate it; can't pin point what's causing it…

But when I run Carl's blood through the blood screen this time the same unidentifiable chemical now spikes on his paper as well. Not as strong as mine so I'll have to keep checking; see if his levels increase over time to where mine are, or if they drop off and his fever and the infection returns.

Whatever it is; I'm grateful. It's somehow keeping us both alive.

I barely make it back to my bed before I pass out again.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes: **Second Chappie for todays update (since they're short one's I'm giving you two!)

Huge thanks to everyone for the reads/reviews/follows/and fave's!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

The burst of static from my left drags my attention away from the medical textbook in my lap.

The walkie talkie on Carl's bedside table bursting to life once more…this is the fourth time in as many nights she's tried to reach us. I stare at the small plastic box while she whispers my name, begs me to answer her.

Each night I expect to hear someone else's voice instead of hers; but she's either the only one still hoping I'm alive: or she's hasn't told them she's trying to reach us at all.

Maybe no one remembers Carl was carrying a Walkie that day…mine is long gone; probably still laying on that rusted out camper's roof on the highway; I don't even remember dropping it… I just know I no longer have it.

"Fin? Fin, please…"

If I don't answer back soon she's going to give up; she can't keep this up forever and maybe that's for the best. Cut all ties to the past; for me and Carl.

I sit listening to the steady beep of Carl's heart; trying to tune out her whispered plea for me to answer, ignore it staring at the bold black text of the book in my lap. One of my heels twitches with an apparent mind of its own listening to the little girl plea with me.

My leg tapping a nervous rhythm against the edge of the metal bed frame where my feet are both propped on Carl's mattress supporting the weight of the book against my thighs.

I try to focus on the medical textbook for blood borne pathogens I dragged up here form the small medical library on site; hoping to understand what the unknown chemical is in our bloodstream. So far no luck.

"Fin…please answer me…"

Tap, tap, tap…

"You have to be there…please…"

Tap, tap, tap…

"Fin, please; everyone is so upset…Rick and Daryl are barely speaking to anyone…Daryl yelled at Beth last night and this morning and Carol tried to talk to him…"

Tap,tap,tap,taptaptaptaptap…

I jerk my hand out and press it to my knee; stop my whole leg from shaking before I can rattle the whole bed frame. I sit perfectly still closing my eyes and drawing in a deep slow breath.

I should just get up; turn the damn thing off: I don't need to know this.

I don't want to hear this.

It doesn't change anything…

There's a raspy broken breathe before she whispers again. "_Fin_…I kept your secret, I didn't tell…" _Tears._

_Shit._

My feet slide off the mattress onto the floor as I hoist myself up from the armchair textbook in one hand. I take the two steps towards the night stand, set the heavy text against the fake lacquered wood grain staring down at the little flashing green light.

It's that roadway at the tail end of fall a year ago all over again.

When a chance encounter with a scrawny dark haired kid changed my life for the better.

I can feel it deep in my gut…drawing me out…pulling me in…that tug to act; to expose myself to help someone…

My fingers close over the cool black plastic still sitting on the wood. I close my eyes breathing slowly in and then out praying silently for strength though whether I'll use it to pick the walkie up or turn it off I'm not sure.

When she speaks again nearly dissolving into rasping soft cries I can't pull words from I can't take it anymore. I pick the walkie up and press the button; feel the static burst like an electric charge across my skin; prickling the hairs on the back of my neck with the risk I'm taking.

"I'm here Mika, don't cry…it's gonna be okay I promise, everything is going to be alright."

I guess I've added lying to children to my growing list of sins.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

I pull the car up to access drive still hidden from view by the thick patch of trees between me and the warehouse on the far end of the lot.

I killed the headlights long before I turned down the road, but the serviceable vehicle I stole is one of those newer models with the little yellow running lights on the front and sides. The kind that run the entire time the car is turned on regardless of whether or not you're trying to pass unnoticed because you'd like to _avoid_ getting shot.

I climb out of the vehicle, closing my door as quietly as possible. Sounds always seem to carry farther in the dead of night. It's almost as if the darkness amplifies the sound, broadcasts it for all the little ears of prey and predator alike to hear.

The roadway is silent beyond the soft fall of my soles on the hardtop.

I accidently catch a small bit of loose gravel with my toe wince when a quarter sized rock goes skittering over the road's surface with a small _clack, clack_ as it rolls tumbling away into the soft grass now lost in the darkness.

I freeze listening to the sound of my heavy breathing in the night air wondering if this heart pounding rush of fear is what normal people feel in the darkness; worried that every little sound will draw them like moths to a flame before shaking my head and opening the rear door of the car. Reminding myself to get a grip.

It wasn't that loud. It's just my perception, my nerves at being back here; worried I'll be caught and not make it back to Carl in time… he can't wake up and find me gone still intubated and tied down; that would be horrifying for him. I have to make it back.

I shift the pack on to one shoulder, quietly close the back door and move down the roadway's edge tracing the yellow line around the drive and up the tree line eyes pressing into the darkness; searching for light or movement any sign that someone is on watch tonight atop the giant warehouse roof.

The rim of half-wall out lining its edge stands against the black sky from this distance—manly visible for the way it blots out the stars before being lost into the darkness of the surrounding trees it's base and the majority of the lot no more than a vague impression in the pitch dark under the lack of moonlight.

I pause halfway across the lot, waiting. My fingers clenched tightly enough around the thick padded strap against my shoulder that they start to ache while I resist the urge to turn and run my heart pounding so hard it makes me sway just slightly where I stand. If I don't do this tonight I won't get another opportunity for a long while.

They deserve some kind of explanation. Especially him.

And seeing as I can hardly do this face to face without risking my life; and Carl's if I don't return to take care of him this will have to do.

It feels cowardly and dangerous at the same time, twists the knots in my stomach a little tighter. Maybe I'll breathe easier once it's finally done.

I'm lying to myself even as I think it; I've had this scenario play out too many times since the beginning to think that anything but time—a lot of it; will calm the knots behind my ribs; dull the throbbing ache in my chest that's never roared quite this viciously before…losing him is worse than anything I could have ever imagined.

It's damn near crippling.

It feels like someone has replaced my lungs with a balloon; filled it with too much air; I can't exhale to relieve the pressure; and inhaling only expands it further presses the ache around my heart 'til it's too much to bear.

Nothing moves in the darkness that I can see so I continue forward, crouched low even though it will be movement and not height that gives me away if I'm seen. I reach the vehicle I intend to use, swing my bag around to my side so I can open the pocket watching the roofline again in the darkness. I pull the small cylindered shape from inside by feel and pop the cap off into my palm trying to muffle even this small sound with my skin. I shake it carefully press the felted end to the window and begin to write, trying not to press to hard; make the letters drip.

It takes me maybe a half a minute to scrawl my simple message to draw their attention. Make them look for the note in the first place so they don't miss it. I press the cap back onto the shoe polish slip it back into the front pocket of my bag and grab the letter in my fist. I move to the front of the vehicle and lift the front wiper trapping the folded paper under its heavy weight making sure it's pinched tight against the glass—can't blow away.

Then I quickly move back across the lot, not breathing easier until I'm back under the cover of the tall pines on the far side of the lot once more, hidden against their trunks in the space around me truly dark under their heavy wide spreading branches. I cross through them carefully inspecting the trunks in the dark until I find the well faded strip of surveyors tape tied around the right trunk.

I drop my bag to the ground, shifting the contents around with my hand in the dark until I find what I need. I pull the harness out strap it over my waist and around my thighs pulling it snug and tight before reaching back inside my bag finding the toe spikes I need to scale the trunk. I shimmy up the tree about twenty feet in the darkness moving carefully and slow, adjusting the loop around the trunk I'm bracing my weight against every few feet extra cautions in the darkness.

I hate that I can barely see what I'm doing; but I can't risk trying this during the day when even with the branches for cover someone might still see me. It takes me nearly fifteen minutes and I'm slightly winded by the time I reach the branch where the bug out bag is secured with rope.

I pull the pack open carefully retrieving the long coil of rope inside and dropping it towards the ground releasing the clamp lock so I can lower it back to the ground once I'm down myself. It takes me just as long to work my way back to solid ground; my muscles are shaking when I take the last short leap to the ground.

I need to eat more, now that Carl is stable enough for me to leave for short periods of time I can find food, or hunt. I quickly lower the heavy pack to the ground; it's got everything I need to make a quick run for it.

I should probably come back another night and retrieve the other two bags scattered around the nearest half mile of the warehouse. Hide them around the hospital instead, just in case. I prepared and hid them a long time ago just in case I ever had to leave in a hurry; I've lived through starting from scratch one too many times not to always have a back-up plan…and a back-up-plan to my back-up-plan.

I heft the heavy pack onto my back using both straps to secure its weight, and carry my nearly empty pack in my hand back to the car. I have to get back to Carl.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: ** I own none of the characters from TWD comic book or AMC's show, I wish I did; I bake myself a chocolate cake every night just so I can blow out birthday candles and cross my fingers wishing; but sadly no...they still don't belong to me. Bummer. It's damn good cake though. :D

**Notes: **_ This is Technically Sunday's update but turns out my plans for tomorrow might interfere with posting so I decided to just play it safe and put chapters 7 and 8 up today :)_

Thanks to all the readers out there! You guys are awesome and make me feel super! Seriously every review makes me smile like a goof ball, my husband is starting to think I'm on medication...or that I need some... heh. XD

Thanks as every to my beta of awesome; Angelinaa who works hard to prevent you guys from being plagued by eye twitches at the typos... Any mistakes left below are completely my fault. I probably got too distracted thinking about Daryl Dixon to fix them! : P

_Italics_ in this Chapter denote thoughts (as per usual in my writing) and also the contents of _the letter!_ *cue dramatic music or whatnot*

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"_Rick!_ Rick!"

Maggie isn't yelling for him, but there is no way Daryl's not going to jump up too; race to the ladder and climb to the roof right on his friend's heels. Barely awake or not Maggie's tone is tight as she calls down to them from the roof where she and Glenn were on watch the night before. Carol and Michonne finally convincing Daryl and Rick both to get at least one night of sleep; after four days running on fumes it was a request his exhausted body was _finally_ capable of giving into. Though the few hours of dead-to-the-world-sleep have left him feeling groggy as shit this morning.

He frowns the second he reaches the rooftop; amending his previous train of thought: Glenn and Maggie were _Supposed_ to be on watch. Though it's pretty obvious to everyone they couldn't have been watching _that hard_ to just catch something like this after Maggie points her arm over the half-wall down towards the lot indicating to them both that whatever she called them up here for is actually _down there_.

And it can't be Walkers because she wouldn't yell like that; unless it was a herd like they saw on the road that day… even that crowd could probably tear the warehouse doors down concrete block or not…

But it's not Walkers.

It's two words.

Written in bold block letters across the back windscreen of one of the vehicles parked in the lot. The one angled almost perfectly to face them; insuring that whoever was on watch this morning could read it as soon as the sun was up enough to offer the light… wouldn't miss it no matter how distracted by making out or whatever the _Hell_ it is they do on watch together.

Just Two Words:

I'M SORRY

Rick snarls at Glenn and Maggie both, lips curled back in outrage.

"_HOW_ could you miss _that_?!"

It's the first hint they've had in days. Glenn stammers and Maggie looks completely stricken.

"Rick it was new moon last night." Carol's calm soothing voice interjects from right behind his back. He didn't even hear her come up behind him.

_Shit, he needs more sleep, he needs to focus._

He stares at Rick squinting in the early rays of sunlight, grateful that at least the rooftop isn't roasting yet while Carol continues unbothered by the glare Rick shoots her. "There was barely enough light to see your nose on your face out here, let alone all the way down there."

Much as he hates it; Carol's right. Because if _she_ left the message, she would have factored that in; chosen last night specifically to come here without any moonlight so she could slip in and back out unnoticed.

She's damn good at being invisible. He might have missed it had he been on the roof last night; and not just because he was dead on his feet with exhaustion.

"She's right." His voice feels like sandpaper in his throat; he clears it; Carol and everyone else glancing at him, he's barely spoken in days he realizes…hasn't had much to say since that night…

Rick glares over his shoulder at him, hands pressed to the wall face pulled into hard lines when he turns back to stare at the message she left them.

"Should we go down there?" Glenn is looking at him, not at Rick; nobody quite certain how the other man is going to take this.

_I'm sorry could mean so many things; _

_I'm sorry I left… _

_I'm sorry I didn't tell you…_

_I'm sorry he died._

There's got to be more to it then that.

_There's only one way to find out. _

He hefts his crossbow strap over his shoulder, moving toward the ladder. Rick following on his heels silently fuming his hands clenched at his sides.

"Aint their fault." He catches Rick's eyes over the railing nearly level with him as he turns, starts climbing down.

Rick scowls at him for a moment, jaw clenching before he offers a tight. "Yeah, I know."

Rick is distraught, but not verging on insanity. It's the best he could hope for days ago when this all started.

He's pretty sure they have Michonne to thank for pulling Rick back from the edge this time. He's heard them talking quietly especially last night. He tries not to catch the nearly imperceptible whispers passing between them when she stands close to him during the day. Their heads leaned in while everyone else tries to look away… offer them privacy to mourn or whatever it is their doing…

Nobody looks at Rick, or they all try not to. But they stare in some kind of stupefied awe at _him_ every chance they get; their glances always jerking away when he catches them.

Glenn made the mistake of asking him two days ago how he really couldn't know what she could do; he nearly gave him a black eye but Carol was watching, scowling at him; reminding him not to hurt his friends no matter how much pain them bringing her up causes, even mentioning her name brings…

That was the real problem with sleeping upstairs in her old room now; where he's lain for the few brief snatches of sleep he caught the previous four days; the fatigue driven thankfully dreamless night he got jolted from just moments before coming out here…he hasn't been downstairs in days.

He can't bring himself to even touch _their_ bed; let alone lie in it. He's made that mistake once before; fighting for sleep without her is torture.

The bed upstairs is hers to…or _was_… but _they_ were never in it. There's no memories pressed to those sheets. The scent of her skin doesn't pull at him; there's no faint fragrance of her shampoo on the pillow haunting him when his eyes close.

But there are _words_ through the thin walls.

He ignores them best he can; buries them away thinking of other things—anything other than her when he hears them all talking at different times, different voices; but always about the _same_ damn thing.

_Her._

Michonne has joined them in the lot with Carol and Glenn and Maggie too by the time they reach the car. Daryl circles it carefully while Rick stands stone still against the pavement mulling over the words silently in the early morning light.

Dew beads on the glass, but hasn't made the paint run; it's long since dried… she's long gone.

The fluttering plastic edge under the front wiper of the same car draws his eye. His name is clearly written on the white paper folded square tucked inside safe from the elements. His heart pounds in his chest, stomach knots with at what he's about to read even as he clenches his jaw; lifts the wiper and pulls the plastic bag loose.

Rick is still staring at the letters on the rear wind screen. But Carol at least has noticed what he has; Glenn and Maggie too judging by their darting glances.

Carol catches his eye silently asking him if he's going to open it here.

He could slip it into his pocket before Rick can see it. Carol obviously realizes who it's from; and God only knows what might be in it…it's addressed to him personally judging by the name scrawled across the top…but Rick will no doubt want to know what it says since his son is still missing.

His fingers pinch white knuckled over the flimsy material containing answers that he's not sure they're ready to hear torn with indecision.

When he looks up again Rick is staring at him. "Is that…"

He doesn't answer just opens the plastic bag and pulls the folded paper out. It's two pages he realizes in neat fine print.

His eyes take in the first words and he's instantly relieved that he can read them aloud to Rick now, that he can ease the man's pain at least somewhat.

"He's Alive, Carl is alive."

Rick all but deflates at the words, his back bowing, and air rushing from him in a strangled sob of relief he chokes back. He raises his palm to cover his mouth drawing in a tight breath presses his thumb and forefinger to his eyes taking a moment while Daryl waits and Michonne clasps her hand to Rick's shoulder steadying him, before nodding at Daryl to continue.

He waits a moment more for Rick to nod to him too and then reads on aloud his voice feeling rough, tight a combination of ill-use the last few days and the gut-wrenching-content in his hand.

"_I can't say I'm sorry for what I did; because I'm not. If I hadn't acted Carl would have died. I am sorry that I couldn't explain what I was doing at the time; before I had to act. The truth is I didn't even know if it would work, but I had to try for Carl. _

_Carl is no longer sick. He's resting comfortably and healing, but the damage was severe; worse than Mika. He won't be able to move for some time, probably weeks. We're going to stay where we are; don't look for us it isn't safe for you to come here._

_Carl is safe with me. Tell Rick I won't let anything happen to Carl. I'll keep him safe, no matter what. _

_There are things you need to know, thing I couldn't risk telling any of you before without raising too many questions, endangering myself by exposing what I am. Since I'm no longer with you and I'm not coming back—_" he stops voice strangled off in his throat. Hand shaking too much to make out the next words.

Carol's fingertips pinch the edge of the paper trembling in his hand. She looks at him, eyes bright with unshed tears cheeks flushed with emotion. "You want me…" she trails off nodding her head toward the paper in his hands.

He nods letting her pull the letter from his hand feeling numb. She watches him for a moment before dropping her eyes to the tight neat script, straightening the paper between her hands, pulling it flat so she can scan the words—find where he left off.

"_Since I'm no longer with you and I'm not coming back there are things you have to understand. The first of these is that Judith is going to be immune_." Carol's eyes jerk to Rick's face they stare at each other for a brief moment before she returns to the letter reading faster.

"_All babies born after The Turn have been immune. I've seen it before and Luke confirmed it when he spoke with me months ago. They seem to be born with antibodies to whatever the Hell it is that causes the dead to rise and makes their bite so dangerous. Please make sure Maggie and Glenn know, I don't want her to worry herself sick; and I'm sorry for outing her, don't tell anyone else…"_

They all stop eyes finding Maggie who flushes bright looking at Glenn. "Sorry Maggie." Carol flushes too obviously embarrassed at being the one to tell everyone the couple's private news.

Glenn shrugs one shoulder looking at his wife face drawn and serious. "Well, Cat's out of the bag."

Rick's the first to speak after their admission. "You're…Maggie are you…?"

"Pregnant? Yeah. Fin knew, she was the only one I told, well, 'sides Glenn obviously."

"Congratulations."

Maggie waves her hand stopping them obviously not comfortable with the idea still, especially in light of the current situation. She must be barely pregnant she looks exactly the same to his eyes when he looks at her.

Maggie shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny her accent thick with her discomfort when she speaks. "Alright will everyone quit stare'n at me like I'm gonna explode right here? Just keep reading Carol. What else does it say?"

They all turn back to Carol while she presses on.

"_Judith will not be able to do the things that I can do; as far as I know no one else can. Please believe me when I tell you if she gets bitten; give her a chance. They may not even show interest in her at all—they might ignore her completely like the do with me or Luke unless we draw their attention on purpose with noise. _

_Carl's not going to die, Judith won't die; I can't explain it, I don't know how that works: I just know it's true because it's happened more than once. The first time I was bitten I waited to die after everyone left me behind, but I didn't even get sick. You've all seen the marks on my shoulder, even though I try to cover them up, keep people from asking questions about them. _

_The second time I got bitten I was trying to save Abby's life the Walker that bit me let me go before I could even react—whatever I am, or however it works they don't like the way I taste. The Walker that got confused and bit me the night I fell on the Peacock farm—because yes, I _was_ bitten that night too; he let me go the second he grabbed me. _

_I've learned over the last three years that I can do other things as well… like what happened on the roadway the day Carl was attacked. I knew I could stop them… keep_ _them away from him at least; but the rest of it I never expected…maybe I could do it all along and just never thought to even try; or maybe whatever I am is changing. _

_That thought terrifies me more than anything else. _

_Everyone who's ever learned what I am has been afraid of me, I guess I can't blame them when I scare myself half the time. _

_When Carl is awake he'll probably want to come home to everyone. And I have no idea what to tell him. He's not infected; he's not going to turn into one of them; maybe not ever… I also don't know if he'll be something more because of the treatments I gave him._

_In saving his life I might have cursed him with becoming like me; Because that's what this feels like: a curse. I'm safe from the dead, but I don't belong with them; they aren't real; they're nothing. And the moment anyone learns I'm different they envy or fear and hate me; and that's the real stick in all this; I don't belong anywhere, with anyone. No one wants me around once they learn the awful truth. And now Carl might have to deal with it too, I won't know until he wakes up. How do you apologize to the boy you've learned to love as a little brother for turning them into a monster? There's no words for that, I was selfish—I couldn't stand to let him go._

_I don't know if you'd want him back now after learning all of this: that he'll be safe with you again. It might seem a terrible thing to question, I know how much Rick loves his son; but when your own mother leaves you to die you start to see the world in a different light. And you can't tell me that everyone in the group is okay with what I've done; with what I am… That they won't Fear Carl, that it won't change the way they treat him. Fear does terrible unspeakable things to people. I don't want him to live through what I've had to anytime people have learned the truth. I would give anything to spare him that pain. _

_I hope you can understand that, at least in some part. I'll keep him safe._

_Carl can stay with me, and we can both move on and you'll never be bothered by us again. Just please keep Judith protected, take care of yourselves. I wish I'd had a moment to say goodbye to everyone. I've thought about what I would say for days now, but I can't find the right words, maybe they don't exist._

_I'm sorry is hardly large enough to encompass everything I feel and want to say, but it's all I have. _

_Keep yourselves safe, please don't look for us. I don't want to hurt anyone but I will protect myself, protect Carl; even from family. _

_If I see any of you I'll assume you mean me or him harm and I'll do whatever I have to in order to keep Carl and myself safe._

_I don't know what else to say_…" Carol stops, shifting the papers in her hands, she glances over the next words eyes lifting from the paper quickly cheeks flushing slightly. She holds it out to him again, her hand unsteady not meeting his eyes.

"The last part is just for you, Daryl here."

He stares at the paper in her hand, takes it scanning the words to find his name near the bottom pouring over them soundlessly hand shaking while everyone waits silently for him to finish.

_Daryl—_

_I meant it. Every word, every moment, every single minute I got to spend with you. _

_I don't know if you can ever forgive me for keeping this from you, for deceiving you like I did. Please know it was only this; this was the only secret I ever held back because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. _

_Don't go to that dark place, you're stronger than that, I know you are. You'll get through this, they need you. Rick especially needs you to lean on right now. _

_And it's not fair of me to ask I know that; and I am so sorry but please forgive me, if you can. _

_I love you, I always wanted to Stay. _

_- Seraphim_

He curses hand dropping to his side chest closing up so tight he can't seem to draw in air for a long moment.

When he looks up again Rick is standing in front of him. He straightens up unsure for a moment if maybe Rick might hit him; blame him for Fin taking Carl away… and not coming back; not planning on it apparently…but that's not the expression on his face.

He's seen this look before.

"What you wanna do?" He's surprised his voice is as steady as it is; clear and strong if a little rough working around the lump lodged in his throat after reading her words.

Rick tilts his head jaw set tight. "Should be obvious Brother, part of our family goes missing; we go find them and bring them back."

And Hell yes he was just thinking the same damn thing.

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Not mine. :(**

**Notes: **Second chapter for Sunday's Update! :) Cause It's a short one, enjoy!

**Chapter Eight**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

"Move it along big ugly."

I don't even bother to look up from the gas can I'm steadying with one hand; the long rubber hose I'm holding just past the canister's lip with the other, watching the clear liquid run into the can gauging how long I have before I need to switch to the next container. I don't want to risk spilling any of it onto the ground.

I have no idea how long Carl might need the generator to run, or how long he might need life support before I can remove him completely. Every drop counts.

I spare a quick glance for the hulking dead staggering towards me still, half his scalp is missing, like maybe someone tried to brain him and failed. He's got to be at least six foot five; and he's not exactly lean either. Whoever failed to crush his skull when they partially scalp him probably didn't live to tell the tale; I frown up at him watch him continue to drift toward me.

When he's within three feet and still hasn't veered off course I feel my pulse quicken; my heart leap towards my throat with an irrational wash of fear; but he hasn't raised his arms; isn't looking towards me crouched on the asphalt between the gas cans… he just staggers on by continuing up the roadway in the same scuffling staggered lope.

I turn back to the can on the ground just in time to pinch the rubber hose between my fingers lifting the hose's end from the lip and replacing the now full canister with another empty one. When the hose runs dry there are tiny flakes of rust in the clear liquid; floating around in a tiny suspended liquid tornado.

Normally I would have stopped the suction long before I reached the bottom of the tank; risked not only clogging the engine with rust from a tank that's been sitting for too long—but also to leave a small amount for anyone still living that happens to be stranded in this area; that's looking to syphon enough gas to get them further on up the road—away from me.

I can't afford to be that choosey right now though. Or that kind to strangers who may or may not exist.

I screw the caps on as tight as possible; until they each click several times ensuring nothing will spill and move them all to the back of the car I'm currently joy riding in, or you know whatever term one uses for a vehicle they've stolen from the hospital parking lot to make a supply run with.

I don't like leaving Carl; but the generator has barely a day's fuel left and I have no other choice. Keeping Carl asleep not only spares him the pain of his injuries while he heals; it also helps him heal faster since he's resting.

It also keeps him from fretting over the fact that it's been nearly four weeks since we left his Dad on that highway and drove away.

I climb into the driver seat, lean forward and grab the two wires I need pressing them together under the dash until the engine catches enough electrical jolt to stutter to life with a press of the gas pedal. I need something I don't have to hotwire in an emergency…and I know just the place, lucky for me it should also have gasoline; the highway is turning into slim pickings lately.

It doesn't help that I have to skirt the very outside of town as far from the warehouse as possible; also going nowhere near the highway were it all happened…not that I want to go anywhere near there really. I don't care how many unspoiled cars are jammed on that highway. It's most certainly a death trap since it's the last place they saw me. I lift my eyes from the can at my feet, check the empty roadway around me, watching each stumbling body my eyes fall on just long enough to judge their gait—assure myself that I'm surrounded by a few dazed Walkers on this empty roadway and nothing more dangerous, and it's not just strangers I now have to watch out for; but my own family as well.

I can't risk running into them like this, which is a very real possibility if I'm not extra careful according to Mika last night, turns out talking to her has been invaluable for where there are going; where they've searched and where they plan to go next. I had my doubts when I first picked up the walkie and started talking to her again.

But if she was going to tell the others what I'm doing I think she would have done it already.

I'm extra careful when I speak to her to never tell her where I am or offer her too much information about what's going on. As far as Mika knows we could be in a residential house or sleeping in the kitchen store room of a local restaurant. She knows I'm alive, and Carl is too—and that he's not well enough to speak to her.

Beyond that I try to tell her nothing. It's just safer that way: for me.

Mika on the other hand tells me _everything_.

They're both out here today—Daryl and Rick. Maybe Michonne too; she wasn't sure if she was going with them when I spoke to her last night…but it's a pretty good bet with how close Michonne was to Carl—and how close she is to Rick that she is out here somewhere as well, searching. And that only complicates my life further.

It's the Peacock farm all over again; the family that once took me in is hunting me now that the truth is out.

No matter how often I tell myself that it was only a matter of time before this came to pass it still stings.

After almost a year in their company and growing so close to all of them I was really hoping that it would never come to pass; that I'd finally found a safe place where I could stay…

I'm not sure if that makes me a silver linings/glass half-full kinda girl—or just an idiot.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them, I just took them out to play and had so much fun I don't want to give them back! :P

**Notes: **Huge thanks to all the readers and reviewers! You guys rock! Keep the feedback coming it makes my day! ; )

What the Hell, Ima give you one more, cause I'm a giver or somesuch... Shiny? :)

(bonus points if you get the reference...)

**Second Note:** My Bad! This Chapter changed/updated around 11am my time because I realized I uploaded a previous draft to the doc loader and it was missing some edits/wording changes. It's slightly longer now, not many other major differences; but if you read it before it IS slightly different now...you're not imagining it! Oops! :)

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

He's coming back down the ladder when he hears her.

He keeps walking at first, ignoring the sound positive that she must be talking to Carol; that they're both still up at this late hour waiting for him to return finally.

Carol has been doing that lately; she's grown more agitated with his trips as the days stretched into weeks, more worried each time they go out that one of them won't make it back. It's become an expected ritual for him to find her downstairs; or wherever she is when he returns and let her know he's back. It eases the empty ever-present ache in his chest to see her smile softly at him when he stops just long enough to tell her he's back usually before trying to catch a few hours of restless sleep before going out again. She never asks what he's found. She already knows just by looking at him.

After the last two days alone in the woods searching for any sign of either of them; having to face Rick upstairs and tell him there was still nothing, witness the despair on his friends face turning away before he can watch Michonne comfort him. A part of him would welcome the distraction of talking to Carol tonight; really talking as they haven't done in weeks he realizes suddenly. Course a large bit of him wants nothing more than to collapse onto his mattress upstairs and sleep 'til noon sometime tomorrow.

He's rounding the corner in the near dark down at the bottom level. There's just enough light to see the propped open door, the rough outline of the furniture with the kerosene lantern Carol keeps on the wall to see by. It's an awful waste of fuel but it's set low and she knew he was supposed to come back today; must have left it burning so he wouldn't crash into something and wake the dead; figuratively speaking.

Her voice has grown steadily louder; but it remains no more than a muffled whisper he can't distinguish individual words from. He pauses turning the lantern off on the wall no longer needed it's light since he's headed for bed after this and the hallway won't be in use until daylight hours tomorrow.

He can see her the moment he rounds the corner into the back hallway. She's sitting in the middle of the floor halfway down the long hall partially hidden in the dark shadows just outside the circle of light cast from the second lantern on the wall.

The sight makes him halt mid-step, or maybe it's the realization that she's alone. Her back is to him, and for more than half a skipped heartbeat he thinks she's talking to herself. Made herself an imaginary friend—kids still do that shit right?

Except something about Mika having an imaginary friend after what happened with her bat-shit-crazy sister Lizzie makes his gut twist. No matter how innocent it might be—burn me once and all that.

His stomach turns in distress at the thought of potentially having to tell Carol that the youngest sister might not have escaped the horrors of her sister's death without some heavy emotional scaring like they originally thought. As long as it's not outright psychosis they can hopefully deal; hell Beth came back from trying to slit her wrists, Andrea tried to blow herself up; and God knows for a while there even Rick had run for Mayor of Crazytown. But this will hurt Carol and that pains him.

He hears the small muffled burst of static from down the hallway, realizes she's playing with a toy and starts to breathe again. He moves down the hall once more ready to tell her to get her butt to bed; ask her if Carol is still awake first… though she must not be at this late hour since he hasn't seen her yet. He'll have to talk to her tomorrow morning.

He's tired and long past ready for bed, his insides loosening in relief that it's just those silly Walkie Talkies Mika, Carl and Fin were always carrying around and not something more sinister…

"Fin? Fin, are you there?"

And just like that he's frozen in the hallway once more; holding his breath all over again. Waiting to hear her answer; desperate for her to reply just so he can hear her voice one more time…

"Fin? Please… Are you there? Is Carl okay?" The static burst behind her voice, roars louder than his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

"Fin, are you there? You _Promised._" He rubs at his eyes exhausted listening to the static burst and then nothing. He's about to speak up, tell her it's just wishful thinking, that they should both give it up she's not there; isn't going to be there.

Hell It's been six weeks it should be obvious by now: _Girl's long gone_…

His chest aches, constricts too tight too breath. Then the static bursts again in the darkness just as he's opening his mouth to speak and his heart stops.

"Yeah, I'm here Mika. Carl's okay, he's resting still."

Just the sound of her voice and his chest is exploding, all the air kicked out of his lungs in a painful rush.

The green light of the Walkie is now visible in front of her; clasped tight in her hand just inches from her face while he watches her hold the only lifeline to Fin in her hands.

"I'm glad he's okay, I miss you,"

"I miss you too." God hearing her voice, she's alive. It soothes and burns at the same time; he's been out there nearly every other day for weeks since she left him that damn letter saying she wasn't come back…

Mika's next words hit him like a slap in the face. "They're still searching for you; everyone is really upset, especially Daryl. He misses you. I know he does because he's really grumpy all the time now."

_What the Hell._

He glares at the tiny blonde in the darkness.

_Damn meddling kids._

_ He'll show her Fucking Grumpy…_

He stalks towards her ready to snatch the God Damn Walkie out of her hands and give them both a tongue lashing to remember when she speaks again stopping him just short.

"I miss him too." And it's not so much the words but the way her voice breaks on them, has gone all thick and syrupy like she's fighting tears suddenly. "I miss all of you, but this is the way it has to be. They'll give up eventually; they won't find us it's okay."

"You should come back…Why do you have to stay away? They were freaked out at first but it's better now, they all miss you. He misses you the most."

The static bursts for a moment but there are no words after the sound. Like she pushed the button but somehow forgot to speak; or couldn't he realizes when just the beginning of a gasping breath filters through the air before being cut off in a burst of static again.

His stomach twists behind his ribs, chest aches, imagining her crying somewhere alone.

"Just come back Fin, please?"

"I..I can't…It's not that simple Mika," Her reply is thick punctuated by a few unsteady breaths a few moments later. "When people find out what I can do; it scares them. Hell sometimes I scare myself… I told you; they'll never take us back, not after what I did."

"You're wrong, he loves you, and when you love someone you don't care if they're a little different."

"Like Lizzie?" Even from this short distance in the dark he can see Mika's physically recoil from her sister's name. "People care _Meeks_, Lizzie was a _child_; I'm not. If I come back they'll shoot me: Carl too. Or worse, you don't understand how people react when they're afraid. This isn't a fairy tale; life doesn't work like that. You can't tell anyone you're talking to me. Promise me you won't tell them."

"I promise," Mika sighs. "But you're wrong. You are Fin, I know it."

"Go to bed Mika before someone sees you or you kill those batteries."

"Okay, goodnight Fin,"

"Goodnight Mika."

Mika switches the Walkie off twisting to stand up and sees him at the end of the hallway freezing mouth dropping open. "Uh…" She watches him walk to the half open door at the end of the hall with widening eyes, watches him rapping on its solid surface with his knuckles and popping his head inside.

Carol looks up at him still half asleep from the cot in the corner. "Hey your back…What is it? You find anything?"

"Yeah, I found Mika in the hallway talking to Seraphim on her Walkie. Did you know about this?" He tries to keep his tone light, not quite successful.

Carol jerks up from her cot instantly awake; and thankfully full dressed he notes jerking back out of the doorway so she can pass, scowling up at him so hard her eyes almost cross. "How can you seriously ask me that Daryl? Honestly…"

Mika is still sitting in the middle of the hallway, walkie clutched tight in her fist staring at them both wide eyed. She flips the nob on the top of the Walkie as they approach. Changing the channel he realizes belatedly so they can't take it from her and turn it back on; so Fin won't know they found out she was talking to them…they'll have to figure out what channel they were using to reach her… Maybe Carol knows.

"How long have you been talking to her Mika?" Carol kneels in front of her instead of staring down at her keeping her tone more gentle then he could manage. "Do you know where Fin is Mika? Because Daryl is trying really hard to find her, and if you can tell us where she is…"

"She had to save Carl so you wouldn't shoot him." Mika cranes her head around Carol staring him down, glaring at him actually—and Dear God kid learned that look from Fin he just knows it.

Carol draws her attention again, voice soft and soothing. "Mika…did you know what Fin could do?"

Mika nods solemnly staring back at her.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because it was _her_ secret, and it wasn't hurting anyone. She didn't tell on me, so I couldn't tell on her, we promised."

"I already know Mika," Carol's hand brushes her hair back gently while Daryl frowns, completely lost in this conversation and growing more annoyed.

"You know?" Mika looks completely stricken, like she might burst into tears.

"Yes, I heard you talking to Fin when we came back here and I didn't have to guess; I already knew Mika, and it's okay. I don't hate you I promise, that's not even possible. Just like it's not possible for us to leave Carl and Fin out there alone; we need to convince them to come back here."

"I've tried! I've tried for days and she won't listen! I told her Daryl loves her and she has to come back and that they're looking for her, but she doesn't believe me."

"Where is she kid?" Carol darts her eyes to him glaring at his tone.

"I don't know!" She twists her hands over the smooth plastic box under her fingers staring up at them in turn. "She never says anything but Carl is sleeping."

Carol twists to look at him face drawn tight. "Do you think Carl might not be sleeping?"

He doesn't like that look. "Whadda mean?"

Her eyes dart to Mika like she doesn't want to say it in front of her. "I'm just saying what if Carl isn't asleep…"

He glares at her. "So What Now You think she's lying about him being alive?!"

"Hey I'm just asking! I want to believe that Carl is alive just as much as you do..."

"Carl is Alive!" Mika jumps up walkie falling off her lap clattering to the floor batteries scattering across the concrete floor. "He's sleeping! Fin said he's Sleeping! He's Not Dead He's Sleeping!"

"What the Hell is going on down there?!"

Carol levels her gaze at him. "So…Rick's awake."

"Yeah." Any hope they may have had of keeping this between them for at least the night; trying to decide what to do now is gone.

This will be a fun conversation.

Mika bursts into tears behind Carol clutching the backless Walkie now missing it's batteries in her hands again.

"Don't cry kid. I'm sure Carl is fine, let's all go upstairs and see if we can't work this out."

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

_They know! Now what?! Off I go to watch Jayne's Town...heh_


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I don't own TWD or any of the characters; though I might be able to claim this version of Mika since they gave theirs up! And Fin is definitely my creation! :)

**Notes: **Another Daryl and the group chapter! :) Happy (early!) Wednesday Update Folks!

Thanks to everyone who's reading! :) Kudos to LA03k64 for creating a 'Jayne's Town' esk Fin song which had me grinning like an idiot when I read it! Shiny! I love it! :D I wanna go to the crappy town where I'm a hero... LOL ^_^

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"So, What's going on?" Rick is eyeing him face still drawn and tight from their conversation earlier, everyone is gathered around them wearing similar expressions. It's been a tense few weeks for them all.

"Mika's been in contact with Fin using those Walkies."

Rick glances past him to the tiny blonde hiding behind Carol's back staring at her feet. His expression tightening further, heavy lines drawn around his eyes while he swallows, tilts his head back to Daryl processing this, trying to temper his reaction; not wanting to scream at a little girl, no matter how frustrating their search the past few weeks have been; How much this information could have helped...

"She know where they are?"

Daryl shakes his head while Rick curses softly dragging a hand over his eyes rubbing tiredly at them.

"I was hoping we could get Fin to tell us; since she's talking to one of us at least…" _and it isn't him_. He swallows that bitter betrayal down feeling it burn all the way to the pit of his stomach like acid.

"I did something wrong by not telling you I was talking to her didn't I?" Mika stares up at Carol. "She made me promise not to tell; she said it wasn't safe, that you would hurt her if you found her… I don't think that's true…" She turns those big brown eyes on him. "You're not going to hurt her right?"

"How The Hell Can You Even—"

"Daryl!" Carols sharp snap stops him short. He shifts his feet crossing his arms in agitation trying to pull his temper back under control.

"Listen Mika, if Carl's hurt that badly we need to help them; bring her back here; nobody's going to hurt Fin. Daryl would never hurt her, neither would Rick or me or anyone else, you know that right?" Mika nods slowly staring at Carol now kneeling in front of her, right at eye level. "Do you know where they are?"

Mika shakes her head again. "She won't say...I asked once and she stopped talking; asked me if there was someone else in the room making me ask."

Maggie glances at him before speaking, "Do you think maybe Daryl could get her…"

"No, if she hears anyone but Mika she'll stop talking." He's damn sure of it, Hell he's surprised she's even talking to the kid at all if she's that set on staying hidden.

"So that's it. We still got nothing beyond confirmation that she's still alive out there." Tyreese looks defeated all but flings himself down into one of the chairs dragging his hands down his face scrubbing at his tired eyes, they're all exhausted feeling the strain the last two weeks especially going out nearly every day pushing further and further in every direction.

Glenn frowns rocking on his feet a few feet away next to his wife, obviously mulling something over by his expression. He jerks his head back up at the sound of defeat in Tyreese's voice taking in everyone's defeated looks.

"No come on guys! We can figure this out!" He points his hand to his wife. "Maggie, bring me those maps we used for planning the last few runs?" She nods moving without question to do what he's asked.

"We've been over those maps…" Rick starts looking even more tired than he did before the news; the hope and subsequent let down of still knowing next to nothing wearing him down further.

"No I know…but we need to look at them again. I have an idea, can't believe I didn't think of it before this…" He grabs the wide county map from his wife thanking her before laying it flat on the plastic table in front of them all. Even Tyreese climbs back to his feet joining them to stare down at it.

"The letter she left us, the whole thing was full of clues; we just weren't looking at it that way the first time we heard it…"

Maggie is nodding along with him, staring down at the map once more. "Glenn's right, between the letter and her conversations with Mika maybe we can narrow this down at least a little bit…"

"The letter said they were someplace we couldn't go…" Daryl frowns, an ugly thought occurring to him now.

"Yeah what are you thinking?" Glenn stares at him eyes hopeful.

"Back when Luke was here they talked about where he was staying, it was someplace in Virginia; when I asked Fin about it she said we couldn't go there because they don't take people in… but Luke was trying to get her to go with him; maybe they only take in people like her…"

Michonne glances at Rick expression dark. "She did mention Luke in the letter; sounds like a place for people who are immune to whatever the Hell this shit is…" Michonne's frown deepens probably thinking what they all are; Virginia is a Hell of a long way to travel to look for two people.

"Nah," Rick is shaking his head, his hand pressed to his mouth staring down at the map thoughtfully. "Those walkies have a short range, a county? Maybe a little more…"

"That aint so little." He frowns at him, he's been searching for days, weeks… he hasn't even made it outside the county yet, "that don't exactly help none." Rick glances at him grabbing a marker from the table. "She been talking to Mika every night?"

Carol nods, "Yeah sounds like it; almost every night."

"That's how she's avoiding us too I bet; asking Mika where we're going every night." Michonne shakes her head looking at Rick. "Girl's smart, she could be moving all over the place…"

"No, she says Carl can't move…they're stationary where ever they are." Ricks been working while they talk, draws a rough circle around the 'X" he's placed on the map; over the warehouse Daryl realizes when he speaks again. "This is home, here." Rick's finger presses to the tiny X on the map. "and this," he stares at the distance ledger in the corner for a moment making a rough estimate with his hand against the map and draws a looping oblong circle around it. "this is roughly how far the signal would travel before degrading…" he finishes drawing the circle they all stare down at it.

"That's still a big circle Rick."

"How clear was the signal? Was it fuzzy at all?" Rick looks at him.

"Clear as a day; she could have been in the same room with us…" his voice sounds too thick even to his own ears, he clears his throat dropping his eyes to the paper again.

Maggie leans over the paper next to him. "Can't be far then, we need to narrow it down further, this could take weeks…"

"Months…" Sasha interjects. "She could be anywhere, she could be holed up in a house somewhere…" She stares down at the map pulls a face, lips twisted into a grimace. "I mean, that's a lot of houses."

He frowns thinking it before he says it out loud. "That aint right." Rick looks at him waiting for him to continue. He shakes his head growing more certain the longer he mulls it over. "Can't be in no house, she'd need access to pain meds; or she'd want it…if Carl's that tore up? Aint no house got access to that stuff."

"Daryl let's see that letter again." Carol holds her hand out to him. No one comments on the fact that he's got it in his pocket, is carrying it around with him. Carol opens the letter scanning the words quickly finding the right passage.

"Okay; her exact words are: '_He's resting comfortably and healing, but the damage was severe; worse than Mika. He won't be able to move for some time, probably weeks. We're going to stay where we are so he can sleep until he's better, so he's not in any pain.' _Mika says every time she talks to Fin she asks to speak to Carl and Fin always tells her he's sleeping; that sounds like drugs; sedation of some kind; like she made for Mika before the trip home. How many places like that are in this circle, would have drugs like that?"

Sasha leans further over the map rattling off a list. "Uh, lets see…that would be hospitals, clinics, pharmacies maybe…"

"Veterinary offices, she knows how to modify things and most of those drugs are the same as human ones." Maggie adds.

"And don't forget nursing homes," Glenn adds "Like those Vato's in Atlanta?" Rick nods writing each suggestion in the margin of the map. Then making marks on the map over the hospital symbols that fall inside the circle, then rough marks in town over things they know are there; as people call them out remembering them in passing while looking for other things. All of them possibilities they'll have to search now. Rick writes the names of each type beside them so they can figure out what's the most likely option first; start there. "I've seen two nursing homes in town..."

"There's one outside of town headed back toward the city on 83 as well." Michonne adds, "Might be in the circle, we'd have to check the distance." Rick inclines his head to her and marks it on the map.

"Every time we go into one of those places, it's gonna be really dangerous." Sasha is staring at all the small 'x' marks on the map frowning. Glenn is staring at the circle from beside Rick's shoulder leaned on his elbows over the map's surface hands steepled in front of his face.

"There's two maybe three if we count this one just outside the circle…hospitals in the area."

"No." Daryl shakes his head while they turn to him he does his best to ignore their eyes focusing on the map instead. "She'd want him close, 'specially as tore up as he'd be. Aint no way she's leaving him to get stuff all the time, she wouldn't risk that." He knows her too well to believe otherwise. He's certain that's why they didn't get a note from her for the first four days: she wouldn't risk leaving Carl until he was out of immediate danger.

"So this hospital is out," Rick draws a line through it on the map eliminating at least that possibility; it still leaves far too many small X's on the map

Carol is nodding across from him. "Daryl's right, she barely left Mika's side when she was injured and that was fighting her own injuries."

"We should start with the smaller things; there'd be a Hell of a lot less Walkers in the clinics, those hospitals will be crawling wi…" Sasha stops mid-sentence eyes going wide.

"Oh my God!" Maggie grins. "That's it!"

"It's one of the hospitals, it has to be." And he missed it.

"Daryl's right; We're looking at this all wrong. Walker's won't stop her—or Carl if she's with him, and it sounds like she never leaves him." Michonne taps her fingers over the two hospital symbols now circled on the map located on opposite sides of the circle.

"She does clearly say, 'don't look for me it's not safe for you here', A hospital full of Walkers?"

"That would do it." Rick straightens up, still looking tense despite their discovery. "Deter just about anyone from coming after them…"

They're not just anyone.

"Just like the warehouse front, hiding behind Walkers…why didn't we think of that?" Sasha shakes her head. "And she's right in the letter…we can't just walk into a hospital; it's practically suicide."

"We cleared out the Prison." Maggie is staring at Rick.

"Sasha's right those places are all over-run; they'd be in every room; packed in the hallways; hospitals the one place you can always expect to find dead guys." Tyreese shakes his head looking grim.

"Maybe we don't have to go in, maybe we just get close enough we can get a chance to talk to her," Rick throws out.

"What like write a letter? Pin it to a Walker and send it through the front door?" Beth all but rolls her eyes. "I want Carl back as much as anybody but what makes you think she's gonna talk to any of you? She left a note saying she didn't want anything more to do with us."

Daryl scowls at her anger building, but Rick answers before he can bite her head off in front of everybody. "I disagree; she left a note saying she didn't want us to hurt her so she was staying away, there's a big difference, if she didn't care she wouldn't have risked bringing that letter here at all."

"Rick's right," Maggie cuts off her sister giving her a hard look when she opens her mouth looking ready to argue more.

"So we figure out a plan, and we've got a few days to do it." Rick eyes them all in turn.

"Mika can keep talking to Fin; so we know they're still there…think you can do that for us?" The little girl nods.

"I'll take Michonne Daryl and Glenn out tomorrow, scout the first location; look for signs they're there and once we know what the location looks like we can figure out the best way to get in and get out alive. They've been gone long enough, it's time we brought them both home."

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. :(

**Notes: ** Thanks to Angelinaa for Beta work, and to the readers (as always) for sticking with this story and for all the amazing feedback they give! :)

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

Mika stares at him in the low light chewing her bottom lip so hard he's surprised she hasn't drawn blood. She turns to Carol beside her again face blanching. "I don't think I can do this."

Carol ruffles her hair soothingly. "Yes you can; I know you can."

"She's gonna know, I'll mess everything up."

"We'll uh we'll be downstairs." Glenn grabs Maggie's hand pulling her away trying to ease some of the tension giving the little girl less of an audience; no matter how much they all want to hear her voice; reassure themselves that Carl is alive.

"Us too." Sasha nods her head to Beth who looks only too glad to leave unlike everyone else.

Girl needs to get over whatever the Hell her problem is with Fin Daryl scowls.

She can't still be mad at Fin for taking Carl away. He didn't even think Beth and Carl were all that close to begin with… Beth was friendly with Carl sure; but she always seemed to be putting distance between them; trying to identify herself with the adults of the group and not the kids. He watches her scowl as she gets up, maybe it's because she takes care of Judith feels like she has to carry the resentment for Rick who's too pre-occupied getting his son back.

He watches her stomp after Sasha staring at him over her shoulder mouth puckered in annoyance before jerking her head back around pony tail swinging behind her head.

He doesn't understand the hostility she's shown the last few weeks more and more openly on her face anytime someone talks about Fin coming back. Knowing that Fin took Carl to save his life; how Beth can possibly still be upset over that when Rick has let it go completely astounds him. Beth's always been a little emotional; back at the farm especially; she'd been beyond sheltered; catered too by her Father unprepared for the harsh reality the world had become… but in the prison she seemed to really grow up; toughen up… found a place in the family, adapting.

This enraged hostility doesn't make sense to him. He's sick of this passive aggressive shit. He's half a mind to corner her and ask her just what the fuck is stuck in her craw; girl stomps around looking like someone pissed in her cornflakes almost daily.

Carol speaking again draws his attention back to the rest of the group. "You'll be fine Mika, just ask her how Carl is just like yesterday and pretend we're not here." Carol is still trying to sooth her nerves.

She stares at them. "But you are here."

He watches Carol try to hide her smile, lips twitching slightly. "What time do you usually talk?"

"It's just always after everyone goes to sleep. It's not specific." She stares down at her shoes the Walkie clenched white knuckle tight in her lap.

"Well it's dark now, I could be asleep; we all could be especially since you can tell her we're checking the woods for her again tomorrow."

"But you said…"

"I know, but she might ask. She already knows we've been looking for her, it doesn't make sense for us to just stop. She'd question that more, okay?" Mika nods slowly.

"Yeah, okay." She turns the dial on the walkie with two fingers, clicking the switch while the green light flashes. "Everybody be quiet."

Rick grins quickly bringing his hand to his mouth to cover it. Michonne looks away hiding a smile.

"Fin? Fin are you there?" A burst of static follows her voice, then nothing for a few minutes.

"Maybe it's too early." They're all just so anxious to try to narrow down where they might be; searching one hospital location is going to be tricky enough without anyone getting hurt; they don't want to start with the wrong one.

"She usually doesn't answer right away. Sometimes I think she's not in the same room." Mika explains looking at Carol.

"We can try again later…"

There's a sudden burst of static from the walkie in Mika's lap making her jump like the plastic box might bite her. Carol lays a steadying hand on her shoulder all their eyes going wide when they hear the voice.

"Fin can't talk right now, please try your call again later."

Rick's head snaps up. Michonne grabs his bicep in both hands whether to remind herself not to talk or him Daryl isn't sure.

"Carl!" Mika's grin is ecstatic.

"You were expecting maybe James Bond?" His voice sounds raspy he coughs after he speaks before letting the button go silencing it.

Mika's face scrunches in concern. "I thought you weren't sick?"

They wait silently all but holding their breath for his answer.

"I'm not. Turns out having a tube shoved down your throat for a few weeks kinda hurts."

"He was intubated; they are definitely at a hospital." Michonne is whispering to Rick who nods hand rubbing over his mouth taking in the knowledge of just how sick his son was: how close to death he had to be for the last few weeks for Fin to intubate him; for her to need a machine to breath for him, he must have been closer to death then he was on Hershel's farm after he was shot not so long ago.

"They'd have to have power to run something like that." Michonne is nodding at Rick's assessment. "We need to look for signs that one of those locations has a generator running."

"Might not be running anymore if he's awake." Carol reminds them.

"She's too smart to make it that obvious." Rick stares at him, nodding slowly right before Mika shushes them all urgently holding a hand up to silence them face deadly serious.

"How are you feeling?" she asks when they're acceptably quiet once more.

Static.

Then; "Like I got chewed on, I'm gonna have some awesome scars."

Mika pushes her button again. "I heard Maggie tell Glenn the other day that 'Chick's dig scars' so I wouldn't worry about it."

Carl must push the button on his end but he's laughing too much to talk, starts coughing which cuts off abruptly with a beep and clack of static.

Mika stares at Carol lips pursed "Was that funny?"

It takes them a second to stop laughing. The relief of hearing Carl's voice making them all feel a bit high.

"Where's Fin, is she there?" Mika asks next.

"She's passed out still. I don't think I've ever seen her look so exhausted." Even Carl's voice scratchy as it sounds is laced with concern. It's like a punch to his gut. Their eyes all turn to him, he can feel them. He keeps his eyes on Mika; holds her gaze willing her to ask what he needs to know.

"Is she okay? Is she hurt?"

The long pause before Carl answers her questions claws at him, twists his insides tighter with anxious guilt.

"Not on the outside, she's just…she's so sad. I just woke up yesterday, so I haven't seen a whole lot but she's just…" there's a beep a burst of static while he tries to swallow and can't and everyone is staring down at their hands now or at the floor. Except Mika who just stares back at him silently.

"She says she's fine…but she doesn't look fine. She looks worse than she did after Lizzie…" Carl's voice trails off while he coughs roughly for a moment still holding his button down instead of cutting off the connection. He clears his throat before he continues every word only making it worse; twisting the knife in Daryl's chest deeper, the pain growing rapidly sharper; piercing straight through to his back so intense he can barely breathe around it.

"I don't think she's been eating much either; I ate today but she barely touched anything… she's been sleeping since early afternoon, but she's not sleeping _well_… she was screaming about an hour ago, and twice before that… I tried to wake her up but I couldn't so I left her alone until she stopped… I had to go out in the hall it got so bad, I couldn't take it anymore…"

Mika's eyebrows are drawn tight over her eyes she chews her lip looking physically pained for her friend. "She's having nightmares?"

Daryl remembers her nightmares ages ago; the violence of them. Having to shake her awake calling her name in the darkened loft of a cabin in the woods while Rick and Carl and Beth pretended to still be asleep… far as he knew she hasn't had them since the farm…He'd thought destroying those monsters had finally obliterated the horrors that haunted her at night…

"It's worse than that," Carl tells them voice laced with pain. "People being ripped apart don't sound like that… she's just…_broken_."

No one speaks for a long moment on either end.

There's a muffled sound on his end of the line and Carl tells Mika to "Hang on,"

Then clear as day her voice unmistakably upset. "Carl! What the Fuck are you Doing?!"

"Watch your Mouth Finny! It's just Mika Relax!"

More muffled sounds and her voice gets louder; closer. "I told you not to get up! Get your ass back in bed before you fall! And then I swear to God I will so beat your ass!"

Carl scoffs "You can't beat me I'm mortally afflicted remember?"

"I'll show you mortally afflicted in about five seconds!"

"What are you my mother?!"

There's a dismissing snort. "Thank God no, rotten kid I'd have to beat your ass everyday…"

"You do know I'm taller then you right?! And if I WAS your kid I'd beat my own ass, God the horror…I'd probably be a Ginger too…"

There's a smacking sound and the sharp bark of Carl's laughter and Carl's voice barking "Eh, Bite Me!" through the laughter and then an emphatic "I don't like left overs!" followed by more laughing and then severe coughing and a burst of static.

When the walkie beeps again it's still Carl speaking voice rougher then it was moments before. "I have to go now Mika, Finny's got a few weeks of saved up snark she's gonna let me have, and apparently that's supposed to be scary…"

"I'll show you scary…"

"You don't scare me I know Daryl!"

There's silence on both ends except for Carl's breathing. "I'm sor…"

"DON'T YOU EVER BRING HIM UP CARL GRIMES! EVER!"

"I'm Sorry! Fin!"

Carl must let go of the button because it goes silent, they wait for half an hour but neither one of them comes back.

When he lies down to get away from them some time later he knows he'll never sleep; not tonight. He should have just taken watch from Tyreese. At least on the roof he could pretend there was something he was supposed to be doing.

Laying here trying to ignoring the sound of Rick and Michonne still talking about plans on the other side of the thin plastic walls of the shed is pointless…

At least their talking tonight and not… He tries not to think about the other sounds he knows he's heard from the Rick's room the last few weeks… muffled or not he _knows_ those sounds… he wants to be happy for them.

He should be happy they finally figured each other out… He wants to feel anything but the way he feels lately… The knots in his insides twist, his eyes burn in the darkness thinking of her. At the briefest glimpse into what her life would be like if they did nothing; left her and Carl to find their own way…both of them safe from Walkers; laughing and joking like she did with Luke…

He could almost believe she'd be okay without him.

Except for the nightmares; and Carl's words flooding his insides with the sharp rush of distress, fanning the dull ache in his chest.

_She's just…Broken. _

_Broken because she left? _

_Broken because she decided not to come back?_

He stares up into the darkness over his head for long hours elbows braced against his sides on the mattress twisting and turning the long since frayed lock of braided hair he carries every day in his pocket right next to the letter with her words; aware it might be the last tangible thing he has of her.

Possibly the last words she'll ever tell him; at least they're written down so he can hold them in his hand; read them again and again…even if they burn; ache all the way to his bones.

She loved him… no woman had ever said that to him…Hell no one had ever uttered those words to him in his whole damn life; not in his memory.

She Loved him…swore it was true and left him anyway.

He thinks of her outburst at Carl, at his stumbled apology…

If she can't even stand the sound of his name…his throat tightens.

How is that love?

How can this crippling ache gnawing at his insides be the same euphoric high he'd lost himself in, reveled in every moment he could mere weeks before?

Maybe if he could sleep he'd see it in his dreams too. The raw pain morphed into images that he's confident could rival the ones tormenting her; he'd be the one torn to pieces on that asphalt road…

He keeps his breathing slow and even ignoring the expanding tightening pressure behind his ribs the sensation squeezing each breath he draws; presses into his chest sitting over his heart like a lead weight.

By the time the sun rises, he's beyond exhausted but the time for sleeping is over.

He's going out today no matter what.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **Not mine

**Notes: **Thanks to all the readers; we're getting there guys hang in there! ; )

Finryl Forever and Ever! Amen. XD

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

"DON'T YOU EVER BRING HIM UP CARL GRIMES! EVER!"

"I'm Sorry! Fin!"

Carl lets the Walkie go, practically throws it down on the bed scrambling after me, but he's a lot slower…I don't make it far so he catches up in a few seconds.

He stands a few feet away in the hallway just watching me sob, hands pressed over my knees bent double unable to straighten up; or catch my breath…

I don't think he's ever seen me cry; when I finally look at him his face is pale and stricken.

"I am so sorry, Fin I didn't mean anything by it…I'm sorry."

I know he didn't mean anything; and I also know I shouldn't have screamed at him; I'm pretty sure he was still holding the button down too; I probably just sent Mika into hysterics…God what the hell is wrong with me lately?!

I feel like an emotional yo-yo. I scrub at my eyes, wiping my nose suddenly very tired again. Maybe I'm depressed…I can't stop sleeping…depressed people sleep a lot.

I mean it's normal to be depressed at least to some degree after something like this right? I press my back against the wall under one of the observation windows into a now empty dark room. My feet slide out and I let my back slide down the wall until my butt hits the cool linoleum floor. My skin instantly cold the thin scrub pants offering almost no protection from even something as simple as a cold surface. Too bad my other clothes were kind of destroyed the day I saved Carl…they were a bloody torn mess…just like his.

I glance up at his green hospital scrub clad legs. My lips twitch up. "You look like Doogie Howser."

Carl squints down at me.

Right, I forget he's 14 sometimes, that's definitely before his time. "We have to work on your movie/pop culture education; there are too many great references that go right over your head."

"Is that really important these days?"

I frown up at him, "Hell yes if you don't know who Chewbacca is it takes the sting out of making fun of your haircut…" I stare at him "or you know…lack of one…"

Carl makes a show of tossing his bangs to the side even though the movement obviously pulls at his still raw neck under the gauze wrap he covers the grimace well. "Did I forget to tell you? I'm working on being a teen heart throb."

I snort rub at my eyes with one hand. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

He shrugs. "That's what big sisters are for right?"

_Hell yes._ He offers me a hand up instead I pull him down to sit next to me on the floor. We stare over the nurse's desk at the broken clock on the wall for a few quiet moments.

"We're not going back are we?" Carl pushes a loose paper across the floor with his bare foot; sends the single yellow back copy of some hand written order long since faded flying across the hall floor to stop against the desk across from us.

"I don't think we can. Mika might accept what I can do without question; without fear…but she's a child. Adults tend to react less 'oh ah' and more 'kill the monster'!"

"Get the pitchforks, gather the villagers?" Carl intones.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"I think you're misjudging my Dad." He looks serious again. Frowns down at his bare feet. "There's nothing more important to him or…" he stops gaze flicking to me for a split second. "There's nothing more important to them then family."

"My mom left me," Carl stares at me. "It was in the very beginning of all this; she took my little brother, and my step dad and they left me behind—I'd been bitten and all they kept saying on the news was to avoid anyone who had been infected; don't let them touch you…My mom jerked away from me like just my touch would kill her…" I swallow, my throat too thick…I clear it.

"I'm sorry." We stare at the tile floor.

I find I need to say; I need him to understand.

"When Abby found out, she wasn't afraid of me; by then It had been a few weeks; I was mostly healed. Abby saw what I could do; I was trying to save her…and she saw them ignore me to go for her. She resented me, hated me…we'd only been together for two weeks but she was all I had…and we got into a fight; she ran and I tried to find her…but they found her first…she died because she got mad at me and left to find her own way…"

Carl still doesn't speak.

"I found this other group after that, and I hid what I was; I hid it for a while. I did a good job of pretending I was just like everyone else; terrified of the monsters; I was terrified…I was terrified they'd show up and everyone would find out what I was…and then one day they did; one of them bit me while I was trying to save Kelly and they all saw this Walker just stop and start to convulse and fall down…and then I thought they were going to shoot me… but they didn't they tied me up instead; forced me to go on runs with them; they weren't nice about it…Thomas…he was the one that found me originally brought me into the group; it was his daughter Kelly I was trying to save…he let me go one night; cut me loose…told me to run…"

"What happened to him?"

"They killed him, I found him two days later tied up with the same ropes they'd been using on me; he let me go and they killed him for it."

"Those people were all dicks." Carl tells me firmly.

I could almost laugh; except it isn't funny; not really. It's incredibly sad what people do to each other.

"Hey, I get it," Carl stares at me expression reminding me of Rick suddenly. "You have every reason to be cautious…I understand being worried about what they're going to say; but you're crazy if you think my Dad or Daryl…"

"Carl."

"No! Listen to me! There is no way that either of them would ever treat you like that! What you can do is amazing! Okay? You're like a superhero or something!"

I roll my eyes. I don't feel like a super hero; I feel tired.

"Just can we give them a chance? Please…Finny…we don't even have to meet in person; just pick up the walkie and talk to them…or I'll do it…just try…do it for me; do it for yourself; because you can't tell me you don't miss them too!"

"I miss them." The back of my head thumps against the wall behind our backs while I stare up at the ceiling.

"Can we please, just try?"

I stare blindly up at the ceiling. Trying to imagine which is worse; Imagining what Daryl might say to me if he had the chance and never knowing for sure; or the possibility of hearing the same words I dread from him and knowing without a doubt that he hates me; wants nothing to do with; regrets every moment we ever spent together…

Would it be better to know?

Or would losing the last tiny flicker of hope I'm clinging to desperately inside finally push me over the edge?

"Finny?" Carl is staring at me.

"I'll think about it, but let's just be careful okay; I also know your Dad and…everyone else are very smart. If we start giving them anything; they could use it to find out where we are… if they did mean to hurt us…"

Carl cuts me off. "They won't, they would never. You'll see. We'll talk to them tomorrow night;" he takes in my expression. "or I'll talk to them; you don't even have to be in the room if you don't want…just let me try Fin. You fixed me, let me fix you."

"I'm not broken."

Carl stares at me those blue eyes exactly identical to Rick's 'Bullshit' expression.

_And yeah, okay._

_Maybe I am._

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	14. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer: **Honestly Babe it's not my bag... ^_^_

**Notes: **_ It's technically Friday...by five minutes here; and since I'm still up writing chapter 20 what the heck! Here ya go! Chapter 13 is yours!_

* * *

This chapter was written long after chapters 14-18 because I was actually not sure how to write it; but surprisingly once I got started it actually ended up flying out and has probably become one of my favorite chapters out of all the one's I've written so far (including the ones in OU!) I hope you guys enjoy it just as much!

As always thanks to all the readers/reviewers who follow the insanity that is my imagination! And massive thanks to my Beta Angelinaa who is learning being my Beta is dangerous because it starts to take over real life! Who needs jobs?! Bring on the Daryl Hotness! ;D

This is a Looooong chapter but it didn't break up well, you'll see what I mean as you go...

Now go forth and consume the crazy that is this chapter! XD

Updated: 5/16 I caught a word that auto-correct messed up! Woops! :D

* * *

**C****hapter Thirteen**

* * *

_Silence._

_It's supposed to be the absence of sound._

_You'd be surprised just how loud it feels. The weight of it; it's heavy like pressure against your eardrum when you dive into deep water._

_It's not just an absence of sound now._

_It's the absence of Everything._

_I never realized how loud life was; until it was over. Now just the sound of my breathing is like a roar to my ears. I pass my foot over the floorboards just past Tobin's open empty doorway in the hall; only now aware that they squeak under my slight weight. The sun is far beyond early morning outside the open windows, bright hot squares of yellow light warm under my bare toes. It's the latest I've slept in months; no reason to get up._

_There's just nothing. No matter how hard I strain. Today there isn't even a breeze. Just silence, and Heat. The world around me is roasting._

_This must be Hell._

_It's been four days since the power went out, I still find myself flipping on the light switches when I change rooms; habit. It's a split second flash of painful reminder every time I do it on reflex and nothing happens. My phone died three days ago, there's no one to call anyway; I couldn't get through even before that._

_The microwave is dark when I pass it to sit at the kitchen table, somehow I still glance at it expecting to find the time. Time. What is time now? It's nothing but a different kind of silence._

_It should be Sunday._

_There should be lawn mowers running; muffled through the windows and the hissing click of sprinklers; the TV should be on turned up too loud while Mom tries to hear the sound over Mr. Garza's leaf blower…the same one he turns on to run over his driveway at exactly 7:15am every Sunday whether my mother says it needs it or not. _

_Eight years now that obnoxious sound has driven my mother mad for almost an hour out of an otherwise peaceful Sunday._

_Now Mr. Garza's car is diagonally parked across his lawn; the door thrown ajar, his usually pristine deep jade perfectly manicured sod split by heavy tire tracks and torn sod._

_It's not Sunday. Sunday is gone. Tomorrow won't be Monday. _

_It's just another day of silence._

_There's a rubber swiping at the glass to my right. I turn my head to meet a pair of fixated and intense yellow eyes._

_I stand slowly twist the door handle and crack the door to let him in. His movement is silent on the tile floor of the kitchen until he rears up and bumps his chin along the corner of the lower cabinets rattling the pans inside. _

_It seemed only fair to remove his bell and the jingling tags declaring him a member of a household that no longer exists; Especially since he won't stay inside—not with so many things curiously out of place in his once orderly outside kingdom. Too many oddities to climb over, and into; too much to explore._

_Our worlds have become a wild catastrophe of abandoned vehicles and thrown open doors to discover; boxes and household items left abandoned dropped or flung on driveways and streets. I can only imagine his feline enthusiasm; his fascination with this new world outside the glass door. While there is nothing more enticing then a mediocre bowl of dry food barely worth coming inside for; certainly not without my mother here. He sits in her lap and no one else's—he's not a floozy._

_I dump a cup of dry chow in his bowl ignoring the affronted look he shoots me. Her not being here to stroke his back and scratch his chin as is their private morning ritual clearly my fault. I try to pet his head and stop when he ducks out from under my touch all but glowering at me._

_At least he didn't swipe at me, or hiss. He must be in a good mood._

_I might possibly be the last human left on Earth, and even now Oscar the Grouch wants nothing to do with me. _

_It's a small comfort that at least some things haven't changed._

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

_Present Day_

* * *

I pull myself from sleep slowly feeling heavy still and not quite rested once again. I gather the things I'm going to need carefully needing to travel light at least on my initial journey out, an almost empty bag, my weapons-just incase. We never reached Mika last night after the whole 'Daryl' incident with me shouting at Carl...I have no idea if they'll be out there somewhere hunting me down today...but I would guess that it's a yes. Can't be too cautious.

Still Carl will be well enough to move soon; and a housing development or farm somewhere far from here would be much safer for us now. We need supplies to make the move. We can't risk staying here much longer; it's been too many weeks in one place already, the risk of discovery grows greater everyday, especially after Carl spoke with Mika; I can't help but worry someone else might have heard us especially with the shouting...

I press my fingertips against Carl's shoulder shaking him gently. "Carl? Hey, Carl wake up."

He grumbles something unintelligible reminding me of Tobin's heavy sleep; too many times in our childhood I would tell him something first thing in the morning only to have him swear we never had a conversation about it. Eventually I learned not to tell him anything important until he was completely vertical, especially if I wanted him to actually retain the memory.

"Carl, I have to go out." More grumbles. It would probably help if his face wasn't shoved into his pillow...

"Seriously, If you're not awake enough to remember this later it won't be my fault."

"I'm awake, I said give me a minute and I'll get dressed."

I frown down at him shaking my head. "You're not going." He's only been awake for three days now; yesterday was the first time he got out of bed; against my better judgment. No way is he going outside to wear himself out even if he doesn't have stitches anymore and his wounds are almost closed.

He still needs to rest; heal.

"Stay here, eat something; and _Not_ just Chocolate bars, read a comic book or something. I'll be back this afternoon."

"You can't go out there alone." Then he stops himself frowning. "I mean, I guess…"

"What? Walkers are suddenly going to decide to get me?" He frowns lays back down with a sigh still adjusting to _my_ rules in this strange new world.

"Yeah, that's going to take some time getting used to. I haven't been afraid of them in a long time; not _really_ afraid like I used to be…but to not even consider them; what's that like?" He stares up at me expression somber.

I hesitate for a moment "It's lonely." It's an honest answer. If Carl is the only family I have left in my life I don't want to lie to him.

Carl frowns, mouth turned down in thought even while he rubs at his eyes before staring at me again. "Not anymore, you got me right? Just be careful okay?"

"Stay off the Walkie 'til I get back?"

He nods yawning and I turn to leave. His call of "I'm serious, be careful," makes me pause in the open doorway.

"I'll be careful; I'm just running to the store." I raise my eyebrows dramatically.

Carl's lips twist up at the private joke.

It's such a simple phrase and in our lifetime it's become worlds more complicate then it's ever been before.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

The plastic coated metal handles dig painfully into my elbow. I shift the basket against my side adjusting the handles so they sit in a new spot; already starting to indent a new section of my skin imprinting my forearm with another set of straight angry lines. I wonder again if I couldn't have just grabbed a cart; it's not like I have to worry about squeaky wheels… but I do have to carry whatever I take out of here back with me for several miles and this is the easiest way to keep tabs on the weight as I make my choices.

A lot of the drug store is trashed; empty shelves, a smashed glass pane in the front window lets an occasional breeze into the front section of the store; has blown leaves long dried and wilted against the first few aisle shelves. The Pharmacy shelves are the most picked over; littered with knocked over white pharmaceutical bottles labeled with block print letters and a few scattered boxes of blood sugar test strips.

I move to the right, walk slowly past the woman standing against the hair dyes section. She turns inquisitively as I pass. I hear her breath hiss in past gnarled teeth before she ignores me again; turns back to the smiling happy woman on the boxes as if contemplating whether life would really be better blonde.

I pause further down the aisle setting the basket at my feet to grab more rubber hair ties; I don't bother tossing the cardboard strip into the basket. I snap the plastic ring guarding this particular treasure and slide half of them over my wrist before moving on.

You never want to be without hair ties.

I'm halfway down the next aisle almost to the section I need when the box catches my eye and I freeze in my tracks.

It's the same brand I brought Maggie.

I stare at the photo on the cover, some generic brunette with too white teeth; she's smiling at her results.

Maggie didn't smile; she shook like a leaf when I handed it to her.

My stomach twists behind my ribs suddenly wondering; flooded with panic over the little things I've been ignoring; dismissing for weeks. _Shit._

My arm is starting to ache. My mind is blank and simultaneously filled with curious white noise—a million thoughts overlapping and twisting coalescing into one writhing emotion I can't easily pin down. It feels suspiciously for at least a brief moment like I'm having a panic attack.

I could just walk away; go back to the hospital—that makes more sense; it's more accurate to test there…But now that I'm thinking it I can't move; can't walk away from the damn boxes and that stupid happy lady with her mocking knowing smile. I wonder idly, miraculously detached from my own current ordeal if _that's_ why this is the brand continually left on the shelves. People grabbing this kind of box are rarely in the mood to grab the one with the _happy_ woman on the box.

_No one likes being mocked._

I want to walk away, but I can't. I know I won't be able to deal with walking the six long miles back _not_ knowing; the weight of something so life changing isn't something I want to carry for such a long distance. _Ignorance is bliss? Pfft. Not now._

I set the basket down breathing slowly and grab the box my fist closing tight enough to dent in the corners under my palm, the thin cardboard crinkles against my fingertips.

I leave the basket half full against the bottom shelf and walk to the back of the store with heavy feet, pushing open the bathroom door. I have to stop and go back, drag a waiting chair from the front of the Pharmacy counter to prop open the door so the room isn't pitch black. It's still dark, but I can at least make out the stall walls in the low grainy light.

My hands shake pulling the cardboard edge open, the minute sound seems to echo in the empty space. I have to wipe my palms over my pants continuously to stop my fingers from slipping off the thick plastic bag covering the test, trembling so bad I can't get a solid grip. I lean my shoulders against the wall cursing, eyes closed while the Lady Walker from outside makes her way to the chair now blocking her path; drawn by my noise.

Cause my distress _needs _an audience, Thank you very much.

I finally get the package open nearly dropping the white plastic stick into the open toilet as it all but explodes open at my forceful frustrated tug.

I collapse back against the wall overcome with the urge to laugh, because this is _NOT_ how I ever pictured this moment.

No wedding ring on my hand. Hell, no man at all; alone in a deserted CVS bathroom with a shop lifted pregnancy test, trembling hands, sweating palms, an aching stomach and an angry Walker snarling at the cracked open door threatening to knock the chair anchored there loose and plunge us both into total darkness. Because even in the apocalypse a girl _can't_ go to the bathroom alone.

Fuck No.

I sit finally, breathing slowly torn suddenly between crying and throwing up on my own shoes.

It's the most important pee of my life; and I suddenly can't go…The Lady Walker finally succeeds in bumping the chair loose and the door slides shut with a resounding slam luckily trapping her on the outside still.

The sound breaks something loose inside me; snaps against my frazzled nerves and for a split second of what I can only classify as shear absurdity I can just picture his expression reading a second _very_ personal note written in shoe polish on the front windscreen of his truck. I crack because it's too much like a bad lifetime movie…and how did my life come to this?

I howl until tears stream down my face, shaking so hard I almost fall out of the stall... and that only makes it that much harder to stop.

I sit just dying with one hand clutched against my ribs gasping for air between fits the cold plastic gripped in my fist with tears streaming down my cheeks from my hysterical laughing fit. I laugh so hard I'm slapping my other hand against my knee, stomping my foot against the tile whole body shaking so violently with laughter that I can't breathe. I wheeze, and cackle and gasp for air, eyes tearing because it's just too much.

The inky blackness around me so complete there's no difference between my open eyes or the back of my closed lids. It's all probably some kind of deep metaphor for my life at this moment that I'm missing because I'm too wracked with hysterical laughter to give a damn.

Just sitting alone in the dark; a pregnancy test, and a Walker at the door.

It all feels so horribly clichéd. It really is some bad lifetime movie; the tragic end of a doomed romance between a young doctor and a rough gorgeous redneck… of course it could also be the lyrics to a bizarre post-apocalyptic country song, cause that's a concert I want to go to…

If Taylor Swift were still alive in this world it could be her new hit single.

I laugh until I pee myself-literally; and luckily I'm still sitting down; somehow haven't dropped the test onto the floor despite my insane fit; and that means I'm almost done. The thought sobers me finally.

I wipe my eyes; and other things in the dark with a free hand and the little bit of toilet paper that's still to be found in the darkness before I stand. I have to hold my scrubs against my waist shuffling forward in the dark towards the vicinity of the sink to set the stick down so I can re-tie my pants.

Meanwhile my new best friend thumps on the door for moral support cause she doesn't want me to feel alone in my time of need; she's awesome like that. I snort with another wave of laughter at the bizarreness that has become my life while groping around against the sink's edge trying not to knock the test onto the floor.

I find it finally, too bad I can't read the results in here. Clearly, seeing as I can't even see my own hand in front of my face.

I have to take it out there, which would be easier if my feet would move. I sigh carefully picking up the stick and turning around finally before almost killing myself on the chair in the darkness—even though I knew it was there somewhere…I just didn't realize it was going to be _Right There_. I curse, rubbing a hand over what will be a brilliant new bruise.

The Lady Walker is beyond frantic by the time I open the door; she lurches past me into the darkness searching for movements and sound while I step out, letting the door close behind me and lean against the short section of wall between the women's and men's doors; waiting.

I can't look, too terrified to see a pink plus sign growing bolder as the seconds press on.

I inhale counting off in my head try to tell myself that it doesn't matter; no matter what this damn thing says I'm going to be Okay.

I exhale slowly open my eyes and feel like someone punched me in the gut.

It drops to the floor with an audible plastic click and I kick it away with my boot in frustration hand clapped over my mouth feeling somehow robbed.

_Negative._

I drag my fingers through my hair breathing deep, hiding behind closed eyes for a brief moment while the possibility of keeping just one beautiful thing in my life escapes me. Guess it really was just nerves and exhaustion; it was ridiculous to think otherwise with the implant under my skin.

I swipe at my eyes and prop the door back open more so anyone passing through will know she's inside then so she can get any fresh air.

I move back to the aisle I left my basket on and pick it up tossing in a box of tampons. I'm going to need them at some point; might as well grab them now before I'm desperate.

Then I move on, I still have another stop to make.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

"Carl? Hey, Can you Hear me?" There's a small burst of static while I rest my hip against the metal rim of the shelf.

Finally an answer; "Yeah, Where the Hell'd you get another Walkie from?"

"The store." I put as much 'Duh' into my tone as possible.

And because it's Carl he bothers to open the line just to snort at me repeating my words in a mocking girly high pitched voice.

"That's attractive, I'm on my way back, probably be another two hours? Just wanted to let you know."

"Cool. I'm going to order a pizza be a doll and pick it up on the way back?"

I snort. "Alright, I'm hanging up before I end up with a crowd."

"Right the sound; see you when you get back."

I turn the walkie down, leave it on though just in case he needs to reach me; even if I didn't have it before I can't turn it off now. I stuff it into the deep single back pocket on my scrubs, seriously missing my cargo pants at this moment. One more stop to make on another day. It's getting late now.

I heft my bag up onto my back and start the long walk back the rest of the way to the hospital cutting through the woods to avoid anyone on the roads.

* * *

I'm almost in sight of the hospital's roofline through the trees when I hear it.

There's no mistaking that sound, it makes my palms sweat and my heart race; twists my insides to a mess of knotted up nerves.

It's a car door closing somewhere nearby; I can't pin point the exact location through the trees; it could be on the road—or it could be in the lot. I don't dare use the walkie in my pocket; not knowing how far away they are…especially after I hear another car door close…and then another… muffled voices through the trees to my right.

I circle back toward the lot, slipping deeper into the woods because I _know_ those voices.

It's no coincidence that they're here; I've screwed up somehow; or Carl couldn't resist the temptation in my absence: picked up the walkie and told his father where we were.

Dread crawls through the knots twisted in my middle_. I don't want to do this._

I drop the bag I'm carrying against the trunk of a tree; it doesn't contain the supplies I need right now anyway. I pull my bow around in front of me nocking an arrow, grateful I took it with me, like the harness on my hips; and the knife at my belt; the machete on my hip.

'Just running to the store' never goes as planned.

I move closer, need to see how close they are to the hospital; if there's still time for me to get inside. It might also give me a chance to see how many of them are here; I heard three distinct car door's close; but that doesn't mean it wasn't three people sliding out of one back seat; or three people getting out of Daryl's truck.

Because Daryl _will_ be with them.

As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow in the East.

And that's seriously bad news for me. I barely made it away from the Peacocks on several occasions; and they were nowhere near as good at tracking somebody through the woods as he is.

Nobody is as good at tracking as Daryl Dixon.

I'm going to need my absolute A-game, every trick in the book I know; and a crap load of luck in the next few hours; or I'm toast.

A little psychological warfare couldn't hurt either.

I stop where I am, bend down and clear a section of dirt smoothing it very briefly with my palm before drawing my knife; pressing the blade tip into the cleared dirt scratching my message. Then carefully I walk backwards away from it moving towards the right I need every second of time I have to lay false trails; give me time to get away.

I break off from this trail moving in another direction for several feet before looping back trying to keep my feet in the same pattern they originally left; not completely successful but I'm in a bit of a rush.

I back track through the trees to a certain point and then take off in another direction before doing the same thing; dropping to a cleared point right beside the base of a tree and clearing the dirt of leaves and twigs with a swipe of my hand; scratching another message with my fist clenched white knuckled against the knife hilt.

I wince a bit myself staring at the message but supposedly all's fair in love and war.

And if he's off balance, he'll be off his game; and that's an advantage I desperately need.

I jerk back to my feet and back track, watching over my shoulder, tracking my own racing footsteps trying to match my stride to the ones I already left.

I twist when I can just barely make out the lot through the trees and creep through the trees; the sounds of Walkers snarling hasn't risen yet; I don't know what they're waiting for but If I'm going to make it to Carl I have to go now…

Daryl was crazy enough to run into a crowd of Walkers at the warehouse with nothing but his hunting knife once upon a time trying to get to me; if he sees me and has his crossbow there will be nothing to stop him from following me into the crowd; or worse simply putting a bolt in my back.

I pause at the edge of the trees crouched low watching carefully when I see them; hear them; they're behind a car not twenty feet from me; I shift silently—put more of the tree between us.

They're watching the Walkers in the lot; the hospital behind that and not the tree line; but I need to move; I can't stay here long.

"This is it, has to be." Michonne.

"How can you be sure? We don't want the wrong hospital." Maggie, and oh God _that_ hurts. Maggie hunting me too. _Ouch._

"Michonne's right, this is it; all the Walker's in the lot are dressed as Patients and staff…if that hadn't happened recently they'd have scattered by now." Rick's gruff even tone answer's them.

I breathe slowly heartbeat pounding in my throat.

"Could mean insides cleaned out, could just be the lot here, that's not so bad." Michonne again.

"Are you looking at the same lot I am?" Even Sasha is here, my stomach twists with knots.

"Hell we sitting here flapping our gums for people?"

_Shit._ I can't breathe. I knew he'd be here but…I can't… I lean my back against the tree my vision swimming with what feels suspiciously like tears; try to keep my breathing silent when I can draw a breath again. It burns all the way down my throat constricting in my chest like churning like acid threatening to come back up.

"We said recon only—" Rick again.

So they were going to bring more people back. _Great. Carl and I need to move now_. I slip further against the trees, closer to the bag I need in the back of the car parked against the edge of the lot. It's also better cover from this angle.

I just need them to leave, it's getting late; they can't stay that long...

"No, we do this now; Carl's awake she might move him somewhere else, we want him back we do this _now_." Michonne, but Glenn and Maggie are agreeing with her out loud now.

_Shit, so they're here for Carl._ They _do_ want him back. It's a rush of relief and a painful ache all at once. Almost all of them are here too;and they wouldn't be if they didn't agree with bringing him back; wouldn't risk their lives like this. Mika must have told them Carl was alive. They came to get him back; bring him home.

He's got a better family then I ever did. My chest aches.

Maybe if more time had passed when this all happened; maybe if I hadn't been bitten at the very beginning; just after the hysteria set in things might have been different. I stop listening as they make their plans, can't risk using the Walkie this close to them. I start to move through the trees, and stop backing up behind the car's side panel again.

It's too late. They're already moving forward.

Michonne is always amazing to watch defend herself in any situation; in the open lot with the Walker's all spaced out by several feet and so few other obstacles to get in her way she just flows through them. Each swing melting into the next twisting and turning slipping between their advancing forms like water flowing between rocks twirling and spinning in an effortless current which steadily brings her closer to the hospital's doors. I hold my position for a moment longer watching in awe as she cuts a clear path for Maggie, Rick and Daryl following in her wake; wading deeper into the lot forming the front half of a circle driving forward; Glenn, and Sasha in the rear; defending the corners as they move forward.

And I can't help it, hunting me or not. I can't stop watching in fear. I don't _want_ them to get hurt.

_They want Carl back; they're still willing to be his family now that he's better._

_They used to be mine._

Michonne is damn fast; they're already within fifty feet of the hospital doors. Every spin and move a seemingly choreographed spinning dance. Rick pulls something out of his belt; starts to raise it to smash the glass door when Michonne steps closer and pulls the door open in front of him. I left it unlocked with the Walker's in the lot—figuring no one would risk a hundred walkers to reach the entrance. Rick lowers his hand and stops; seems to be splitting the group into two and that's not good...there are still too many Walkers stumbling over the pavement towards them as Daryl and Rick slip inside while the other's continue to hold position on the sidewalk edging the lot just before the doors.

I want to tell them to all go inside; where it's safe, to watch and make sure that no one is bitten in the group they've left behind; but I have run out of time. I need to go. It won't take them long to find Carl inside; and then they'll be on me. I turn and start back towards the rear door of the closets parked vehicle, the one I parked for this very reason.

Behind me Glenn barks a warning to Maggie and my heart nearly stops. I almost forget myself and the danger by standing as I spin back to see if she's alright. Fear gripping my chest. I drop back to a crouch a moment later grateful they missed me. They're all too busy staring at the parking lot where my flash of panic has given me away: All the Walkers have stopped as if the world were a DVD and I just hit 'pause'.

_Oops_.

And now they _know_ I'm here. It's long past time for me to go. My window of escape is narrowing by the minute.

I turn away Michonne is already taking advantage of the silent bodies to cut down the statues closest to the group. Bodies hit the pavement at lightning speed under her sword work while I grab the back door handle of the car I was crouched against and slip the Bug Out bag from the seat.

I pull the Walkie from my pocket press the button and speak quickly, hoping he's in his room; that he'll hear my goodbye at least.

"Take care of yourself Carl, and take care of them. Maybe I'll see you around one day." I toss it onto the seat leaving the door ajar.

I don't need it anymore.

Talking to them now would only remind me painfully of just how alone I am once more.

In a few weeks when it's safe again I'll leave Mika and Carl another letter saying I'm sorry, and give them the goodbye they both deserve, at least in writing.

Right now I have to run.

I crouch low watching over my shoulder as the rest of the group are all taking down the remaining Walker's in the lot. Hopefully they won't see me before I can get my head start; the false trails I already laid out might earn me an hour; if that.

I have to slow down a bit once my trail overlaps my previous prints; I can't make it too obvious with my haste which trail is the right one. He needs to take the other two dead ends; or at least one of them before he gets more cautions; starts to study my movements; I need that time desperately to create more distance.

I stop one last time just before I'm through the break in the trees at the edge of the road, yanking my knife from my belt to carve another message into the dirt. This one more desperate then the others, entirely too honest for my own damn good.

But it's all I've got left, and I still don't know if it will be enough.

I burst through the trees onto the roadway and slam to a stop gasping with Tyreese standing not twenty feet in front of me. Two cars and Daryl's big black truck parked on the pavement just behind him, and _shit_.

I'm not sure who's more freaked out when he sees me. And then in one sweeping glance it's most _definitely_ me because Tyreese has got a _gun_ tucked into the waistband of his pants. _Tyreese_ who can barely handle a gun; who _can't_ hit the broadside of a barn with one; Would be _useless_ against the massive amount of Walkers they'd expect to find outside and inside a hospital with one. He might as well throw the bullets at them.

There's only one reason Tyreese would be carrying a gun; and that's because he might need to use a gun on _Me_. His machete is in his hand; but he can't hit me that from this distance.

He raises his arms in front of him; palms out towards me eyes wide with alarm. "Relax, it's okay!"

I realize I've still got the knife in my hand when his gaze darts to my hand.

"Just let me go Ty. I don't want to hurt you." I back away a step watching him swallow; step towards me hands still raised

"Look It's not like that…"

Movement to my left through the trees snaps my attention around realizing a split second too late it's all a stalling tactic, and they're _both _diving at me.

Michonne from one side; Ty from the front and I can't let them grab me; killing me outright is one thing; torturing me or using me is a completely different kind of Hell I can't go through again…

In another split second decision I know which one of them I can outrun easier.

I snap my wrist up Michonne's eyes go wide catching the movement even before I let the knife go; just like I _knew_ she would. She drops to the ground just under my barely too high throw effectively stopping her forward rush and distracting Tyreese long enough for me to drop my too heavy bag and bolt like Hell into the trees.

Good thing I always hide a spare.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **_The Original Characters of AMC's The Walking Dead belong to someone else, they're politely letting me borrow them for my own playdates and personal amusement; well and yours I hope! They have promised not to sue me (I swear I heard them say it!) Since I make no profit from this venture beyond a bit of Muse enlightenment which I don't think is something you can measure in monetary amounts...hmm..._

**Notes: **_Huge thanks to all the readers/reviewers faves and follows you guys are awesome! Especially since you had to read OU before even starting THIS insanity! That's dedication! Rock on Peoples! ; ) _

_Massive thanks as always to me Beta Angelinaa who works tirelessly to rein in the run-ons and typos of doom; anything left below is strictly my fault and should in no way reflect on her general awesome! :D_

_Its about to go DOWN PEOPLE! XD_

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

Rick's already halfway across the empty lobby space all but running to the doorway labeled stairs.

"Rick! Slow down!" For all they know there might still be Walker's in here. Rick pauses by the doorway, nodding to him he pushes it open blade ready and they're greeted by only darkness, silence on the other side.

"This is the most obvious stairwell."

"Right, it's the one I'd want to use going any place; and last thing I'd wanna do is run into one of them in the dark."

Rick pulls a flashlight from his belt, clicking it on. "Let's hope she feels the same."

They move forward, small beam sweeping the darkness and finding nothing but concrete stairs. The move swiftly; pausing at the first landing halfway between floors to listen and sweep the darkness.

"Any idea what floor she'd have him on?" He adjusts his grip on is crossbow in the darkness, pulling his knife out and holding it in his hand, the space is tight; maybe too tight for bolts; he hits a wall and his arrows will snap like twigs.

"Most critical care wards are on the third floor." Rick's voice comes from the darkness to his right, he starts up the stairs; flashlight beam moving ahead of him.

"Hell you know that?"

"It was on the sign over the front desk. See I'm _pretty_ and smart."

"Pfft, Getting laid on the regular makes you all kinds of smart mouthed don'it?" He's certainly in a better mood since he heard Carl the other day, reading that he's alive and hearing him with his own ears two completely different things.

Maybe after he gets her back he can breathe easier too.

He can practically feel Rick's smirk in the dark. "That obvious?"

"Shit. Girl aint exactly quiet you know." Rick bursts out laughing quickly stifling the sound trying to keep quiet. Daryl shakes his head while they pause briefly sweeping the darkness above them from the next landing before they move again, circling up finding nothing but darkness until they reach the landing door labeled Floor 3 in bold blocky print.

Rick peers through the glass rectangle into the lighter hall beyond and then pushes it open. The hallway is empty on both sides. Several ward signs hang beside double doors.

He pauses chewing his lip taking in the different wards available. "Which one you want to try first? Could be patients left in these rooms." She might not have cleared everything out; just the area she was using...they don't want to open the wrong doors and find a herd of Walker's behind it.

"Yeah I was thinking that too," Rick moves cautiously beside him.

Luck for them they don't have to choose.

He jerks his crossbow up when one of the double door sets leading to a ward opens off the main hallway not thirty feet from them. He drops it immediately when a tall thin young man dressed in bright green scrubs with dark hair almost past his chin walks out, sees them and stops frowning hard.

"Carl?!"

"Dad?! What the Hell?! You Can't Be Here!"

Rick keeps moving toward his son in the hallway, ignoring his outburst completely grabbing him in a fierce hug.

"I'm so glad you're alive."

"You already knew I was alive, seriously Fin left you a note." Carl pulls back from him, turns to look at them both. "You can't be here. If she comes back she's going to flip out."

"She's not here?" _Because that's not good_. When she sees the parking lot she's going to _know_ they were here.

"No, she went on a run early this morning; she's going to be back any minute."

"We just need to talk to her, tell her to come back with us.,," Rick starts holding his hand out placating like it's Carl they need to convince.

"No you don't get it! She's convinced that you guys are going to kill her, or tie her up and use her to keep yourselves safe."

"Who the hell—"

Carl levels his eyes at him. "Those Peacock Assholes you guys dealt with last year and another group before that. She had a damn good reason for not telling any of us what she could do. She's was terrified you guys are going to kill her the second you found us."

Rick doesn't even bother to correct his language this time, looks a little taken aback at just how grown up his own son looks after just a few short weeks. Kid definitely looks different...Shit, he's not a kid anymore...

"That Peacock family when they found her in the woods took her in a long time ago, and then when they found out what she could do they kept her tied up for weeks; tortured her…"

"How the Hell you know that?" Daryl stares at him; she never mentioned what they did to her, even after almost a year together. She told him nothing about what they put her through. But she tells Carl?

"She's been having nightmares. Wasn't that hard to figure out they weren't good memories, and she needed someone to talk to about it." Carl shrugs staring at him like it should be obvious. He doesn't realize they were all listening when he spoke to Mika about it before. "Now get out of here! Busting in here weapons drawn isn't exactly going to convince her of your noble intentions!"

"No we're not leaving without you." Rick is shaking his head, dead set on getting Carl back to the warehouse. "We can just wait until she gets back."

"You can't be here or she won't come back! If you're here she might just run! And I can't leave her she'd be devastated, did you know her Mom just left her behind? Just left her to die, what kind of Mom does that? Look just give me some more time to try to convince her…I had a plan, Jesus."

There's a burst of static from Rick's hip. He drops his hand to the Walkie there pulling it from his belt. "Say that again?"

"I said, if you've got Carl you might want to get down here, I'm pretty sure we just got made all the Walker's stopped."

"You see her?"

Daryl's cursing already moving toward the stairs, Carl right on his heels and then Rick.

"I told you, if she saw them she's gonna bolt. We'll never find her again!" Carl's anxious tone matches the knots twisting around in Daryl's stomach, the acid burning in his gut.

They reach the glass doors to the front of the hospital parking lot in a few tense moments racing down three flights of stairs. Carl lays a hand on Daryl's elbow stopping him just before the doors, slightly winded from the run.

Kid isn't done healing yet –not by a long shot. "You might want to let me go first."

"You can't be serious…"

Carl stares at him eyes so like his Dads laser intense and bright blue. "She sees you guys first without me and she might think I'm dead; she'll bolt for sure."

"Fine, Go."

Carl shoves the door open moving out into the lot heading straight for the trees, eyes darting to the Walker's strewn on the pavement around them shaking his head. He stops nudging one of them with the toe of his boot sticking out under the bright green scrubs he's got on. "You might as well have posted a neon sign on the building." He frowns down at the bisected body, then raises his head squinting up at the tree line frowning. "Where's Michonne? Everyone else?"

"Tyreese is positioned up by the entrance, with the vehicles." Daryl and Rick both watch him checking the lot, moving off to the side. "Glenn, Maggie and Sasha were helping Michonne clear the lot…What is it?"

"Cause that looks like you just want to talk, you brought every fighter we have!" Carl glares at his father.

"What the hell was I supposed to do?!"

Carl doesn't answer, is moving toward a car parked on the far side of the lot, he sees that the backdoor is wide open facing the trees and curses sharply. "Her bag is gone."

"She could still be coming back."

Carl's shaking his head turning to look at them. "No, you don't understand. She kept an emergency bag in here, so if we needed to split quickly we could…she wouldn't have taken it out unless she saw you guys; or saw the Walker's down in the lot. She knew you were here. She's gone."

"She'll come back for you." Rick looks so certain. Carl's still shaking his head, circling the back of the vehicle and reaching inside, pulling something out; he tosses it to his Dad over the hood of the car without another word a damn near textbook Rick Glower etched into his face.

Rick catches the tossed object with two hands, when he opens them up Daryl can clearly see what he's holding. It's a Walkie Talkie.

"She must have heard you, or saw you; one of the two. She _knew_ you were here, and she left this because she won't be answering Mika anymore; my guess is you were already inside. So I'm either back with you or dead. She's gone, we'll never find her." Carl slams the rear door with a snarl for emphasis.

"We'll just Fucking see about that. Nobody is just _gone_, it don't work like that." Daryl snarls. Girl can't sprout fucking wings no matter what other crazy things she can do. She has to be on foot…at least for now. He slings his crossbow over his shoulder moving to the other side of the car, searching the ground by Carl's feet for prints. "If she's on foot I can track her."

He finds her prints all too easily moving back into the trees; heavier with the weight of the pack she's carrying. "Right here, piece of cake." He nods his chin moving confidently towards the trees. They fall in step behind him, Daryl leading them maybe two hundred feet before he pauses staring at the ground.

"What is it?" Rick is behind him, Carl says nothing.

"Two sets of tracks." He points raises his arm to show where both sets lead off.

"Someone else with her?" Rick frowns beside him, glancing at Carl who shakes his head.

He has to crouch down and stare at them. "Nope, they're hers, both of 'em, she have a bag this way?" He glances at Carl who shakes his head again.

"She can't have gone two directions at once." Rick is staring to the left.

"One way to find out. Come on." He waves them after him moving slower carefully watching the ground after fifty feet he stops staring at the ground feeling his lips twist.

"What is it?"

"It's a message."

Rick moves up beside him staring at the words scratched in the dirt before turning back to him. "She's playing with us." He's searching the trees around them, maybe expecting to see her hiding around one of them ready to jump out.

He glances back at Daryl expression not remaining completely serious despite the situation. "So…does she call you that often?"

Daryl turns his scowl on his friend not bothering with a reply.

She's not playing a game he knows better; she's stalling them for more time. And the longer he stands her contemplating her message, the farther she gets.

"Come on,"

He leads them back up the tracks to the original set; follows the second line of footprints through the trees.

They've gone another fifty feet when it splits again. "Shit."

Rick is frowning at the tracks beneath their feet. "She could do this all day."

"Nah, at some point she's gonna lit outta here, try to put some real distance between us." He kneels down checking the tracks closer this time; catches where one of them doubles back on itself; two heel impressions to the same boot he shifts his weight standing back up indicating their direction. "Real trail is this way."

Carl pauses when they start forward again. "Don't you wanna know what she wrote?"

Rick stops quirking a brow at him.

"What, you trying to give her more time to get away?" He glares back over his shoulder at the young man now almost as tall as he is.

Carl stares back at him, doesn't even flinch. "No, but if she took the time to write it, it's obviously meant for you and it can't be that far…"

He huffs, moves back over the footprints curiosity hounding at him as well. "Wait here."

The side tracks don't go far, Rick and Carl still well within sight when he finds the words, snarls kicking his foot through them.

Rick is watching him brow raised when he comes back brow raised in obvious interest having watched his reaction. "You wanna talk about it?"

He levels a sharp glare at him a gruff. "No," before moving down the trail again, when he finds the next cut off he holds his hand up to Rick and Carl and moves off alone one more time. Eyes narrowing lips thinning to a hard line at the words not fifty feet from where he left them standing. He's infinitely glad Carl and Rick aren't reading this as he toes his boot through the words scowling.

She's getting more creative; and it's not going to stop him; he's just gonna spank the daylights outta her smartass when he catches her.

The other good thing about leaving Rick and Carl on the trail is he can double back twice as fast. Girl's damn crafty he'll give her that. It's been a while since they played this game while they were out hunting; he's always wondered if she let him win because she _liked_ getting caught.

Today feels like a different story; between her wicked words and false trails, this is a whole new level of cat and mouse.

Rick's Walkie bursting to life against his hip the second they're on the trail again.

"Rick! She was here, she spooked the Hell outta Tyreese, threw a knife at Michonne."

Rick stops short yanking the Walkie off his belt and barking his next words into the black box. "Is she alright?"

Michonne must take the Walkie from Maggie, because she answers a moment later, sounding slightly amused despite the fact someone threw a knife at her moments before. "I'm fine, Daryl's girl missed on purpose. I've seen that girl throw. She was just trying to slow me down and stop Ty. It worked too; by the time I got up Tyreese was trying to help me and she was gone."

"Where are you?"

"At the cars, you have Carl?"

Rick answers while turning his eyes on Daryl waiting until he nods.

Forget games, he'll pick up her trail off the road, it's a closer starting point and he's positive they'll be more tricks up her sleeve to throw him off.

"Let's go." They move towards the cars, also following the faint print of her boots Daryl notes absently, can't help looking down and finding the marks in the dirt; the broken limbs she passed; she was moving pretty quick here.

He stops so suddenly Rick nearly plows into his back.

"The Hell?! Walker?" Rick's tone is sharp, alert while he eyes the trees.

Daryl stares at the dirt under his boots.

_If you ever loved me at all, then let me go. _

He reads it twice before scrubbing his foot over the message swallowing around his tight throat.

_Hell she mean ' if ' ?! _

_He's not letting go of anything, least of all Her._

Rick starts to ask him again, moving forward Daryl stops him with a hand smearing her message with his boot heel. "Aint Nuthin, let's move."

He's still gonna spank her; he's just going to pin her down and kiss the mess out of her first.

They exit the trees just up the road a maybe sixty feet from his truck. She must have popped out somewhere close to here when Ty spotted her. Daryl is already moving against the other side of the road; searching the tall grass for a trail while the others have there happy reunion.

"She went this way."

Rick is shaking his head. "She's gonna be moving fast, there's no way Carl can keep up." Kids already breathing hard, Michonne is hugging him tight grabbed him the second they showed up.

"I'm not going," Carl is looking at Daryl and not his father when he speaks. "You're not either Dad, Daryl can move faster alone and she's less likely to shoot him."

"Well Hell I'm going, sitting here wasting time, she's getting farther away." More time she has the harder this will be.

Rick nods slowly. "You want us to leave the truck?"

He shakes his head quickly, "Nah give me that Walkie." He holds his hand out catching it when Rick tosses it to him over the empty roadway. "Take the truck, this could take me hours with her head start, when I find her I'll let you know, you can come get us in the morning."

"You sure?" Rick is staring at him hard, clearly doesn't like the idea.

"Get outta here old man, I got this." Rick nods, waving his arm for Carl to come with him.

Carl turns back to him a few steps away. "Be careful out there. I don't think she'll shoot you, but…" He doesn't finish a flash of uncertainty crossing his features.

She wont." Or the girl wouldn't have run...not with that many Walkers in the lot. She could have made them dance a Congo line; instead she stopped 'em all so no one got hurt and took off alone. Daryl tucks the walkie into his back pocket hefts his bow and continues to follow the sharp quick footprints against the dirt.

He picks up his pace once inside the tree cover, she must have been really booking it when she left these marks; they're the clearest trail he's seen her leave in weeks.

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

_Oh dear, Whatever did Finny write that has Daryl Snarling and talking about spanking?! *swoon*_

_Anyone who wants to take a wild guess in the comments gets a virtual muse cookie! ; D_

_To Be Continued! (Obviously!)_


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** They don't belong to me, which sucks; but I'm gonna to take them out of the box and play with them before their creator gets home shhh don't tell!

**Notes: ** HUGE thanks to the readers! Can't believe we've almost got 100 reviews already, everyone of them is a joy to receive you guys are awesome, thank you so much!

This is a short chapter, so I'm going to give you this one and Chapter 16!

Chapter 17 wont be up till at least Wednesday at least;

it got a re-write and had to go back to my lovely beta! : P

I'm working on the second half of NV now and it's starting to come together. ; ) I hope that by the time I post chapter 20 I'll have 21-30 done and the updates can continue regularly. As always if your not sure when an update is coming or what's going on with a story you can check my profile page on here where each story is listed with notes.

Thanks to my Beta, the ever awesome Angelinaa! Am I 3/3 yet dear?! Muhahahaha!

Now, On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

_The house is still asleep as I make it home—but just barely._

_I leave my car in the driveway remembering not to block Phil even with the throbbing agony I'm in. I manage to stumble up the walkway, keys clenched in my fist to the front door._

_Mr. Anders who's lived down the street from us for over fifteen years is walking his wife's dog down out sidewalk, it's one of those little hairy breeds the size of my mom's outdoor cat. It yaps at me like we don't meet like this at least three times a week. _

_He waves to me and I half raise my hand trying to appear normal, gritting my teeth against the pain. I watch him for half a second longer carrying on down the road feeling surreal after the morning I've had._

_If it wasn't for the pain, the distinct damp cling of my fleece to my shoulder blade and down my arm I could believe standing here on the steps to my childhood home that this is just another early morning weekday. That my mom will be up any moment if she isn't already starting coffee and telling us how in May the kids are already bitten with summer fever…_

_Bitten._

_I shudder the EMT staggering towards me dragging his intestines beneath him flashes over my vision—for a split second I am back there screaming and back pedaling from them both._

_The doorknob twists under my palm, I leap back with a shriek barely managing not to actually scream seeing it's Phil. He stands on the other side of the door cocking his head down at me while I stare wide eyed at him, breathing too hard._

_"Honey? Why are you just standing on the porch? Last night so bad you can't remember which key goes to the house?"_

_"Uh, Yeah. Something like that."_

_He steps aside watching me closely but lets me slip past him into the front hall without further comment. Then he moves out onto the sidewalk behind me walking out to retrieve the paper; just like every morning. He stops mid-return to wave and say good morning to the neighbors just leaving for work._

_I can smell coffee and toast. My stomach turns as I move toward the stairs._

_I start down the upstairs hall past Tobin's bedroom. His door is open about a foot I catch a glance of my not-so-little-brother still sprawled in sleep. The digits flashing on his clock tell me he's already hit the snooze button more than once._

_He surprises me as I pass; one eye popping open rolling a bit in his head to focus on me in the hallway where I've stopped seeing that he's awake._

_"I had a bizarre dream about you." He sounds half asleep still._

_I scrunch my nose frowning down at him. "Should I be hearing this?"_

_He snorts. "Don't be a Perv Finny, it's a sin you know." He rolls off his stomach half sitting up scrubbing a hand over his face etched with sleep lines._

_"Says the guy with girly magazines under his mattress…"_

_"Hey! Appreciation for the female form doesn't make me a Perv. It makes me seventeen."_

_"Tell that to Mom."_

_Tobin levels a still half asleep glare at me. "You're sour. Rough night?"_

_My shoulder throbs. "Yeah," I don't elaborate. Tobin is staring at me again gaze oddly serious for my usually jovial crack-up of a little brother._

_"What?" I shift my feet. I need to get to the bathroom and deal with the wound in my arm before I pass out or bleed right through this jacket…Mom will skin me alive if I get blood on the rug…_

_"Dunno, I just know it was the weirdest dream…and I can't remember it all now…it's going kinda…fuzzy…" Tobin waves a hand vaguely in the air between us._

_"Alright, well I'm going to take a shower and get some sleep while you ponder the wonderful weirdness that eating a whole bag of Doritos before bed gives you."_

_I continue down the hall Tobin's call of: "It was Captain Crunch!" following me to my room. I pause just outside my door when Tobin calls my name again._

_"Finny?"_

_"Yeah?" He's standing one hand on his door wearing a rumpled high school band t-shirt and south park pajama pants our mother hates._

_"Are you sure you're okay? You look…" He pauses tilting his head. "Freaked out."_

_I swallow. "Yeah, just…rough night."_

_He looks ready to say something else but Mom's voice floats up the stairs cutting him off._

_"You'll be late, you should go eat."_

_"I'm a Senior!"_

_I snort rolling my eyes. "You'll still be late!" _

_I shut the door behind me dropping my bag onto the carpet. Then I move into the bathroom Phil added to my room when I was fourteen. The roof is a little too sloped in some places since he had to use part of the eave of the house to add it; but it was mine._

_I haven't appreciated it quite as much recently; especially with my own apartment closer to the hospital…maybe I should have gone there; but I drove here on autopilot…This is still home; my apartment feels…Spartan; empty. _

_ I strip off my bloody jacket to stare at the raw skin underneath._

_I'm not dreaming. Standing in a yellow and sky blue accented bathroom with the muffled sounds of my mother downstairs staring at the blood dried on my skin… it's somehow more real…and yet distant at the same time; like it happened to somebody else despite the marks on my skin…the pain throbbing right through my bones._

_It really happened, I turn and open the closet yanking out medical supplies that have made it home in my pockets on accident or that my mother has purchased over the years because growing up with Eric and Joe and Luke I've always been a banged-up bruised tom boy with more than one or two cuts and scrapes needing care._

_I take the bottle of hydrogen peroxide twisting off the cap and turning on the shower, I set the bottle inside out of the spray of water, stripping off the rest of my clothing hissing in discomfort as pulling my tank top off pulls at my shoulder; makes it start bleeding a new…displays the long angry red scratches against my abdomen._

_I step into the shower picking up the brown bottle and pouring a steady stream of clear liquid over my shoulder. Biting off a shouted curse gritting my teeth and locking my jaw. By the second and third pour I give up trying and just curse like a drunken angry sailor._

_Dropping the F-bomb under my mother's roof makes it feel somehow even more taboo and satisfying. There's a muffled knock on my door, I can just barely make out a voice over the running water._

_"I'm fine!" I grit my teeth, desperately trying to believe that watching the pink tinted water slide down the drain between my toes._

* * *

I pull my eyes open stare unfocused in the direction my face is turned for a few moments slightly disoriented at this angle. The world broken up into multiple green and brown diamonds of pale tawny mesh. I lie still listening to birds call back and forth to each other in the trees thinking of Judith…and then Maggie an infinite sense of loss stabbing at me just behind my ribs. I suck in a deep breath and shove those thoughts away, bury those emotions down deep so I wont have to deal with their fallout just yet...if I'm clever maybe not ever.

I'm not even sure where I would start.

I raise a hand rubbing at my eyes carefully holding the netting against my hips as I sit up, bracing my hands now against the tree limb I hung my hammock from last night to sleep.

It was dangerous to stop; but I was too exhausted to keep going. I can't waste any time getting down from here though. It's precious time I now don't have to spare; especially if he pressed on through the night…and I _know_ him…I know his determination…his grit. I doubt he stopped for even a few moments even as futile as tracking in the dark can be. There will be very little distance between us now.

I have to move, and quickly if I'm going to avoid him; I don't want to be forced to defend myself against him…I already know I can't do it.

If he catches me out here he'll just have to kill me…

I can't hurt him.

Even with my life hanging in the balance… it's not possible. Even thinking it fills me with an emotion that nears hysteria. I shift up over the branch straddling it feeling it pull and pick at my thin scrubs bottoms instantly missing my sturdy and thick cargo pants…I miss the pockets too.

I untie the hammock wind it up as fast as I can and shove it into my pack before shimming down the tree branch towards the Vee in the trunk it juts out from, no time for grace or theatrics today-it's all about safety and speed. Once there I brace my weight and hook the harness I never removed through the rope I looped over the thickest section of the trunk yesterday and quickly propel myself down as fast as I dare. I stop just short of the bottom before dropping the last bit—I don't want to risk jarring my ankles knowing I'll have to run most of today to get ahead of him again.

I need to circle out to find a car; get to a hardtop road that doesn't leave tracks or a body of water; a stream, or creek that feeds into one of the nearby rivers I can force him to lose my trail in.

I've never felt more hunted.

Because that's what he's doing following me out here: he's hunting me like it's a game.

They have Carl now; the only reason to continue out here is to hunt _me_ down.

I don't know if the rest of them are still with him or if he's alone. It's far worse for me if he is—he can move faster alone, knows my tricks and how I move from so many long days spent in the woods together.

Hunting; camping; goofing off in the short days of fall gathering berries and seeds, enjoying the cool afternoons in winter in the woods behind the warehouse; the long bright green early days of summer spent near the lake where I first found Carl so long ago…

It never occurred to me he might use those long hours spent in each other's company, all our time lost together in the trees to track me down…

Those stolen moments alone used to feel like such a blessing; a minute foray into a world that no longer existed

It's too late now that I realize my mistake; in lowering my guard with him completely-spending every waking moment with him over the last year I've taught him all my tricks, every skill I know-I even started teaching him martial arts...and he'll use them all against me-already is in pursuing me.

I've created the path and instrument in my own destruction.

I stuff the last of the rope into my pack zippering it shut and slinging it over my back; stomach growling in empty protest that I have to ignore. I have to run if I want to live.

So I run.

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**:: Walking Dead ::**


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: ** Don't own 'em

**Notes: ** Massive thanks to all the readers/reviewers faves and follows! :) There's a LOT of Daryl Fics out there it means a lot to me that you guys would sit through not one but TWO of mine! ;D (especially with an OC as the main interest!)

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**Chapter Sixteen**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

He's exhausted, no sleep the night before and very little the past few weeks taking their toll.

It's hard enough under the best circumstances to track someone who knows what they're doing out in the woods. Someone who knows enough to be careful where they place their feet; what they brush against…it's not impossible to follow someone with such skills but it takes more time. Far more time to trace the evidence and track her progress then it takes for her to leave the trail in the first place...it's why he couldn't stop for sleep, regardless of whether she did or didn't stop the night before he has to push on—try to lessen the distance between them before she crosses a road or water. If she moves up or down a road or stream leaving no trace—possibly for miles he'll have no idea which direction to follow...could lose hours or days combing unfamiliar banks or grass medians in the woods desperate for some small sign of where she returned back softer ground escaping back into the woods.

He pauses again, bent low to inspect a track that might be hers...it's faint, and based on the dew collected over the leaf at its edge it's as old as last night; maybe early morning. He has to scour the ground; the branches and leaves each time he passes a mark that might be her, rule out the possibility of animal trails and Walkers, and a smattering of false trails she's left behind to throw him off.

And because it's _her_ he not only has to check the first three feet of branches and leaves and marks in the dirt; he's got to keep checking the trees too; well aware that she could be hiding up a tree; just as comfortable there as she is on the ground. He half wondered if he'd find her during the night sleeping on a branch or just sitting in one waiting to shoot him in the back as he passed by…

Not that he _really_ thinks she'd shoot; not when she sees it's him…

But she was freaked out enough to run…

If she really is terrified enough to think he'd actually hurt her and he presses her at the wrong moment… No.

He can't believe that.

He could never hurt her. He has to believe that she feels the same and that's why she ran. If she meant him harm she'd have ambushed him in the middle of the night when he was the most vulnerable; or left the handful of Walker's he's found already dead wandering around for him to worry about sneaking up on him in the dark.

Hell Girl could have sent the Walkers right to him if she wanted.

Carl said she'd been having nightmares, terrible ones. She screamed at Carl for even mentioning his name… he's never heard her scream at Carl...ever. If anyone had asked him months ago if that was even possible he'd have laughed in their face. Fin's always treated Mika and Carl as if they were her own family; Hell sometimes she treated that little girl the same way Carol did...as if she were her own kid. Girls got a temper on her to be sure; not like he doesn't…

God knows it's a good thing they didn't fight often; they could take the whole warehouse down laying into each other if they ever really got going, no doubt attract every Walker for miles with the volume of their words. He remembers all to clearly the time Luke and that Asshole Chris showed up and the fights it caused...admittedly because he stepped in it big time misunderstanding their relationship from the start. He never thought he'd be a jealous man, took him too damn long to figure out that's what the ugly feeling twisting around in his gut was in the first place...but that didn't change the fact that the fights had been malicious and beyond painful...

Girl could probably have given his brother a run for his money with her smart mouth...knew just what to say to make it _really_ count... Shit they both fought a little dirty…

It wasn't something he was proud of...just a hard habit to break after his Father's sharp barbs twisting through every memory of his childhood...and Merle's off-color comments following him long after, always tear'n him down. His father had been a fucking wordsmith when it came to being drunk and ugly. He knew how to hit and make it _hurt_, Daryl'd learned that tactic from the best.

But to actually lose her temper with _Carl_… She's got to be in a bad way.

If it's anything like the last few weeks for him he can understand her falling apart so hard. He's never hurt so hard in his God Damn life.

He remembers with a wash of sensation he wouldn't quite call nostalgia all those songs he used to hear the first lyrics to while drivin'round with Merle; he recognized them not cause they were particularly good; or because he liked them and wanted to hear them-but for the way Merle would react to them every time.

Merle'd snarl at on the radio like the beginning words were an ugly slur personally aimed at him. It happened too many times to just be a particular mood Merle was in; God knows he had those too while they were going nowhere; just wandering around looking for Merle's next score. Merle'd be sweating, shaking and cussing; sometimes barely lucid at all but he'd find the strength to damn them all, cuss at them for being pussy whipped bitches before he'd jam his finger against the knob hard enough to break something changing the station…

And he'd say nuthin because they didn't make sense to him either. They weren't real in the same way that fairytales didn't exist. They didn't fill him with the irate fury that struck Merle, more a sense immeasurable loss over something he knew would never be his... pussy whipped bitches or not those songs were about something powerful they couldn't score; no matter how many street corners they stopped at. They'd never steal or earn enough cash to buy that kind of high.

Now all those words, all the fuss and hype he used to desperately ignore; or observe in uncomfortable silence; they've started making sense.

If his brother was still here today and dared calling him a pussy for tracking her out here he'd tell him to shut his fucking mouth and maybe shut it for him.

Merle never understood the words, because he never had a girl like _her_.

He gets now with a wicked understanding he was never afforded before just how overwhelming love can be. How it could make a man want to live; or die with just a few simple words, launch a thousand ships, forsake friends and family and old habits-all without even stopping to consider the loss-or even feeling it. Shit, as wrong as he was he can see now how Shane could lose his damn mind; trying to kill his own best friend for a woman that wasn't his...and how Rick even furious as he was over her betrayal almost didn't come back from the edge of insanity-not even for his own son and newborn daughter, too lost in the painful reality of Lori's death.

_Love's some deeply scary shit._

It could destroy them both if they let it.

He frowns searching the space beside a tree trunk craning his head back to check the branches. They're empty, but there's a strip of bark scrapped loose just over his head; the branches overhead the perfect angle, nearly perpendicular to the ground and thick as his waist.

He moves another thirty feet searching. She barely leaves evidence she's passed through except for when she must know he's close; when she's physically running from him, throwing subtle movement aside for distance; even if the movement makes him faster as well.

The soft kicked up depressions between the trees broadcasting loud and clear her quickened effort to put more distance between them.

Like that's going to help. Girl could run halfway across the state of Georgia and he'd still follow, as long as there's a trail.

Even if there wasn't, he'd spend the rest of his life moving in endless ever stretching circles searching for the one that got away.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

Daryl stops at the edge of the street, sitting against the overgrown weed lined curb banking the tree line to rub at his tired eyes. The beginning of an exhaustion headache building there the last few hours adding to the strain of sore muscles, the overall sensation of being worn too thin. He's been trying so hard to think like her the last two days.

Hell he's been doing it so often the last few weeks; immersing himself in her headspace; trying to see things the way that she would every time he's ventured out searching for some them it's become almost second nature now. Not that it's done him a licka'good; no matter how hard he searches or how far and fast he pushes himself to move, it remains a infuriatingly fruitlessly search. Only the minutest marks remain to hint of her passing through; and none of them feeling any closer than the day before.

One or both of them is going to pass out from exhaustion or dehydration or hell a nervous fucking breakdown if this doesn't end soon.

The fact that they've hit the neighborhood development outside a town following the path she took through the woods doesn't bode well for his search, it's that hardtop surface that he feared.

Pavement doesn't leave marks.

There's no vehicles that he can see—none that would run at least.

No Walkers either.

It's late now, night not far off—maybe an hour at most two before real darkness overtakes him.

He needs to rest, before exhaustion causes him to make a fatal mistake out here alone, with no one the wiser and no help for miles-no real certainty of his actual location a simple mistake could go from bad to worse fast. She needs to rest too wherever the hell she is; Walkers might not pose a danger to her; of that he's grateful but they've moved so fast the last 48 hours he doubts she's had time to eat; catch more than a few snatches of sleep—if she slept at all. Between running and her nightmares she's got to be as torn down as he is.

When he catches her they might have to sleep for a week.

He needs to circle the edge of the trees again before nightfall see if he can find her before it's too late. Girl won't do anything so stupid as to light a fire and give herself away; but he knows the kind of branches she likes to use—and while he doubts she's carrying a tent out here now; he remembers her taking simple hammocks out with them on more than one hunting trip. Climbing up a tree in the early morning and literally lying in wait for a deer or some other game to pass beneath them so she could take them down. A hammock would be light; easy to carry and stuff into a bag, it would also keep her out of eyesight if anyone she didn't know wandered by; anyone who didn't know to look up.

He climbs back to his feet, starting back through the trees to the last place he caught her print, some twenty feet from the grassy edge lining the now overgrown side yards at the end of this street. The trees here are sparse; not many of them old enough or baring enough thick branches at the right angle she'd need.

It's like searching for a needle in haystack.

He pauses again, sees his mistake suddenly with crystal clarity; it's blaringly obvious and he might have thought of it sooner if he wasn't so damn tired. He turns back from the trees to stare at the open empty street pondering this flash of insight.

Nobody knows her as well as he does and _she_ knows that.

She's been using that knowledge to stay one step ahead of him.

Girl's smart. Maybe smarter 'n him…he wouldn't bet money on it that's for damn sure. But it aint just smarts: she's cunning as well. Especially now; when she _knows_ she's being hunted: knows it's _him_ following her and just what he expects her to do…

She's just smart enough to do the exact opposite.

Forsaking everything he'd ever expect just to throw him off course. By acting contrary to everything he knows about her she can hide in safety and rest while he runs himself half-dead searching in circles… and that means forgetting the forest; forgetting the trees… he can't find her out here because she's in the last place he'd ever think to look for her.

There's a damn good reason he lost her tracks in the woods.

She's in a house.

Daryl moves out of the trees and circles back to the start of the neighborhood. He moves through the houses in the stretching twilight, his eyes sweeping the ground searching for patterns or disruptions in the bits of gathered dead leaves and random dustings of debris the surface has gathered over time—the littered street not nearly as impartial to a trace of her movement as he once thought, he pauses briefly glancing over the first few houses for any sign of her passing through.

The lawns are long past overgrown. Their weeds standing well past knee high; some of their tangled frawns tall enough to brush his waist as he passes through them searching door to door for signs of life—evidence of recent enough trespassing to be her.

He's almost given up—the sky is just barely tinted with pink and orange through the trees. The aqua steadily deepening further to an indigo purple and azure blue just proceeding the heavy fall of night hanging over his head is an ever present warning of the time; the coming darkness that will soon be upon him and without shelter, the vulnerability that follows with it.

He's about to pick a house for himself smash one of the small square panels in another nearly identical backdoor and use the last few tendrils of daylight to ensure it's cleared out and safe before he passes out when he sees the curtains in the house across the street move.

He turns his head shifting his feet tracking the movement crossbow raised realizing it's the breeze ruffling his hair also moving the curtains.

The windows on that house are all opened—more than a crack; but not wide enough for a Walker to crawl through easily. All the other houses remain shut up tight. He can only imagine the stifling heat and stale air that fills them after the scorcher they had today—hopefully one of the last before fall breaks the heat permanently. He's tired of stepping outside only to feel like he's melting.

He abandons the house he was approaching moving across the deserted street toward the only house he's found that's different. Because that's got to mean something.

The weeds bent over the front walk are undisturbed like all the rest so he circles toward the back; finds the weeds before the back gate bent and broken—the gate not latched cracked a scant inch he presses his palm to it cautiously peering inside for Walkers—finding none he pushes it open with his toe crossbow up and ready.

The yard is short, square, overgrown and empty.

He pulls the gate quietly shut behind him, ensuring the latch catches on the inside before moving forward. The windows here are wide open drawing a cross breeze through the house cooling it with the moving air. The slowly encroaching night finally leaching some of the heat from the evening air, offering him some relief wafting over his skin with the same gentle currents of cooler air now shuffling through the trees overlooking the fenced yard.

He pauses by each window. Peering inside to check the rooms, finds them fully furnished to the point of clutter—but otherwise empty.

He moves to the small square patio checking the back door—another nearly identical sliding French door with a shitty lock. Merle used to love these damn things liked to brag about the times he made a damn good profit jimmying open back doors and jacking new appliances and copper wire from the new neighborhoods going in…'til he nearly got caught doing it one night—and not by the police; by one of the builders foremen with a shotgun…driving Daryl's truck no less. Bastard never even paid him back for the shattered back window.

Daryl shakes his head and braces his arm against the door, giving it a constant pressure before lifting with his other hand. It pops open with a little brute force and a metallic snap. He pauses crossbow ready listening to himself breathe, to the trees moving behind him in the night breeze staring into the empty silent house wondering how long he should wait before he ventures inside into the near dark searching for Walkers.

Somewhere inside the house she screams.

Now he knows what they mean when they say blood curdling because the sound is ice water to his veins, kicks his heart into overdrive; slamming against his ribs, pulse pounding in his ears so loud it's a drum beat threatening to drown out everything but his racing hear; and her terrified cries.

He calls for her, shoving the door open the rest of the way his crossbow up and ready racing down through the empty kitchen and living room to the short hallway, the sound of her screams infinitely louder now. He shoves open door after door ready to kill whatever or whoever is hurting her.

He freezes in the last doorway watching her thrash and cry out in her sleep. The room is empty; there's only her. Yet watching her twist and scream face contorted in pain and fear he knows even alone she's under attack; but it's not something he can fight.

He drops his crossbow beside the bed kicking the door shut behind him since he left the back door wide open; there's no way he's going back out there now; at least he shut the back gate. He's got to get her quiet first.

Someone or something could hear her probably for miles...

He kneels next to her hip trying to shake her awake with no response his insides clawed and raked by every desperate plea she makes to monsters that aren't real. He clasps his hands against the bed watching her struggle feeling extraordinarily helpless, as he hasn't in a long while before doing the only thing he knows that works.

Because she doesn't have nightmares when she's with him.

He pulls his knife off his belt just in case and tosses it onto the nightstand beside the bed and lays next to her catching her thrashing hands in his, pulling her close and begging her to wake up.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them; except for Fin. She's the product of my crazy imagination and too many Nutella sugar highs imagining life in the universe of TWD.

**Notes: **_Someone pointed out to me that it's Technically Wednesday morning where they live... : p _

_Bravo and perfect argument; Spaghetti Tuesday there; actual Tuesday here...I like it! You get a Chapter! ; D_

* * *

Kudos as always to me Amazing Beta; Angelinaa. Without her your eyes would certainly bleed from typos and the grammar police would haul me away for remedial schoolage. *snort* Any mistakes left below are entirely my fault and should in no way reflect upon her gratuitous amounts of awesome.

Huge thanks to all the readers and reviewers; you guys make me feel super-duper special every time you hit that button! : P

**Warnings:** This chapter contains flashback memories/dreams of not nice things being done to Fin. If you are sensitive to that you may wish to skip the italic dream and go straight to the 'awake' bits.

This chapter is **Rated M! **

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

_They're everywhere; surrounding me on all sides. Far too many guns, and knives to keep track of at once, but it's the hard cruel expressions that I instantly recognize as the most dangerous threat facing me tonight. If they were going to shoot me they'd have done it already. Fear skates down my spine raising every hair on my body in a prickling rush of hyper-awareness. _

_Death is not their intention…at least not their first._

_One of them licks his lips staring at me. Like some corny movie bad guy; it should be stupid and cliché. But the threat is real not done for show; I can physically feel it in the very air pressed against my skin surrounded by so many hungry eyes from every direction. It makes my skin crawl. My insides twist in revulsion and fear._

_I bolt without warning, run as fast as I can diving for a slim opening between their bodies, and then racing between the trees. I'm breathing too fast, lungs burning with the same fire quickly eating the strength in my legs, my thighs ache almost instantly, shaking and threatening to give out with each stride. But I push harder, faster, tell myself to run, just run; don't stop. Don't even think about it. To stop is to die; and not a quick death either…no, this death would be cruel and slow. Having them catch me would be a one way ticket to Hell. I'm certain I would beg for death in their hands long before it came…_

_They're chasing me. I can hear them crashing through the woods all around me—behind me, but just barely so. I'm not increasing the distance fast enough… They yell to each other shouting encouragements and whooping with excitement as they hunt. Baying at the moon taunting me with their calls like wild dogs closing in on a kill._

_There is only one of me, and a pack of them, because that's how monsters like this hunt; in packs. It only takes one of them to get lucky, it only takes one hand to grab me; one person to get to close…I run faster tears blurring my vision._

_I can't breathe I gasp for air an invisible knife jabbing into my side threatening to zap what little strength I have left. I was exhausted even before I started running. Now I'm nothing but raw nerves, choking on terror so thick I can taste it in the back of my throat can barely draw air around it…_

_A hand comes out of nowhere ending my flight. I stumble as the hand of death becomes an iron grip—an arm around my waist._

_I'm tackled mid-stride; driven into the ground so fast I don't even get my own hands up in time. I see stars when my chest slams into the ground the heavy body on my back driving the last of the air from my already spasming lungs. I taste blood with my tongue barely register the pain. My mouth is gaping open searching for my next breath my lungs seizing behind my ribs unable to draw in anything for the silent scream my body is desperately trying to make heard. I gasp and twitch under him like a fish struggling to return to water. _

_All those nature documentaries I ever watched suddenly flash before my eyes; I am not the lion or the cheetah…I'm the gazelle. And just like the gazelle no one will help me._

_There are more of them when I crane my head still trying to breathe. They're jerking my arms behind my back painfully tight; but I can't cry out—I can't tell them to stop; that they're breaking my arms because I can't breathe._

_And I doubt they care._

_Something is looped around my wrists, I don't know what; it feels like rope or cloth. When I tug at it testing its hold I find it just as strong as the hands it replaced. They pull me to my feet coughing and sputtering for air, one of them claps me on the back like that will help. They force me to walk though it's more like a drunken stagger back to their camp and there's nothing I can do about it._

_I try not to listen to the thick accents around me. Block out the words while they posture at one another, argue and bicker about which one of them gets to have a go first. That's apparently a bigger deal to them then who goes second, no one cares about that except me. My knees won't seem to lock, my legs feel rubbery and alien not completely under my control everything about this moment is just wrong. I still can't breathe right._

_I can't even tell myself that this isn't happening, because it is. Everywhere I look there are more of them and it's inevitable—I already know it. I know what they're going to do to me, I'm not stupid._

_I can hear them, and even if I couldn't the leers and the hand grabbing my ass as I stumble forward is a pretty obvious clue. _

_These are not nice men._

_These are monsters._

_It is one thing to be eaten by the dead; at least that would be relatively quick; impersonal. I think I would prefer that death to the one that is coming. I don't know how long it will take them to rape me to death; but since there are more of them then I can count; I will most certainly be dead before they are done. And if by some chance they leave me alive…it will not be a blessing; just one more cruelty. Just from the snatches of conversations I've tried not to hear I know I'll be too damaged to do anything but lie still in horrific agony and wait to die._

_They kick my feet out from under me when I reach their camp, winding me all over again when I was just beginning to recover, now I'm fighting painful spasms and terror as I gasp and cough soundlessly, jerking against the ground in horrified agony my lungs burning when they roll me back over. My hands trapped behind my back bent at a painful angle that only gets worse—more unnatural as they shift me with too many hands. My shoulders are tearing from their sockets, and I can't even sob because I'm still trying to breathe and there are hands pulling at my clothes already._

_I jerk away, hands twisting and yanking uselessly behind my back. I struggle to move away from them. I'm not ready to die, not like this… I kick out catching someone in the chest but it has become a team effort I have no real hope of escape. _

_Horror claws at me, tears fall while I shake my head panicking finally, eyes clenched shut gasping for them to stop with what little air I've gathered into my lungs. I twist and thrash crying silently because knowing what they're going to do and experiencing it are two very different kinds of torture…_

"_What's wrong Pretty? Don't want to watch?"_

_The sound of his belt buckle clinking has me twisting no longer feeling the protest of my arms, lashing out uselessly, rough hands press to the bare skin of my hips, oddly my brain focuses on the fact that there's a sharp jagged rock or a stick digging into the small of my back…_

"_I've got something for you gorgeous, bet you're gonna love it."_

_I start to scream and never stop._

_I thrash and try to jerk away but there are too many hands…too many eager horrifying faces…taunting me, grabbing and touching my struggle only exciting them further._

_I sob and scream back arching in agonizing pain, when the second one starts ignoring me still begging them to stop! Please Stop! _

_Kill me… somebody please… _

_If there's even a God left somewhere up there_

_just make it stop…_

"Babe! Fin! Wake up!"

My eyes are open but I'm still blind.

I jerk, twist; lash out at the hands holding me down—at whoever is hurting me now with the darkness pressing blindly against my eyes robbing me of even shadows to grasp movement by. A broken sob rips from me, tearing and clawing against my already raw and burning throat with its exit.

_I don't recognize the sound—it isn't mine. _

_It belongs to a stranger; someone else._

_It can't be me._

_I refuse to be that broken._

My fist connects with something—or someone judging by the sound.

It's the sound of pain; a startled hiss when I make contact with some body part I can't name in the dark. I do not recognize the body pressed to mine, certain even in my fear-muddled state that I was alone when I feel asleep...still not wholly certain that I'm even awake…

I can't think around the white noise of panic in my head. I don't know how he got here, or even how I did in my terrified state; part of me still convinced I'm lying in the woods surrounded by inhuman monsters pretending to be men, just waiting for their turn to hurt me.

I draw up my knee ready to kick out in the narrow space between us that whoever it is attacking me right now has left open. I have to press even this little advantage if I'm going to defend myself; get away—but they move in the same instant that I do; anticipating me perhaps, or maybe just luck.

A solid weight that feels very male drops against me for a split second before twisting us both so I'm no longer pinned on my back; his arm sliding around my waist while I arch and thrash shoving at a hard chest with my hands screaming.

The arm tightens around me pulling me closer when it should be obvious everything in me is hysterically fighting him to get away. I claw out with my hand aiming blindly in the dark for what should be a face. Strong fingers lock around my wrist keeping my arm raised over us in the air struggling for a moment while a low voice is shushing me; saying something I can't focus on over the sound of someone sobbing…I'm sobbing I realize. I clamp my lips over the sound afraid to draw more of them to my struggle.

The fingers around my wrist let go when I go silent and I push my hand up and out to find someone's throat, press there with the heel of my hand trying to drive them back from me… but instead of letting go even when my actions must make it difficult to breath gentle fingers smooth my hair back from my forehead, a warm palm cups the side of my face, thumb sliding across my cheek finding the tears on my skin; brushing them away while I twist my head find myself burying my face in someone chests trying to retreat from his touch.

The voice against my ear raspy and thick finally sifts through the fog of mind-numbing terror, becomes a name I recognize at the same instant my panicked brain manages to focus on the words.

"It's okay Babe, it's me…you're safe…I've got you."

_Daryl_

A soothing calm I can't put into words washes over me; wiping out every last tendril of fear still curling through my insides, haunting me. The heat of his skin against mine, the feel of his breath against my ear whispering my name and shushing my tears uncoils the tension trapped in my muscles like the release of a spring, erasing all the unease and pain hounding my senses until there's only him.

I'm instantly drawn closer, like a moth to a flame. It's an undeniable compulsion the instant I recognize him; I couldn't pull away if I tried. I curl against him hide my face against his neck feeling the soothing heat of his skin against my cold damp cheeks and breathe him into my burning exhausted lungs with each gasping sigh. My hand that was only moments before pushing into his throat jerks loops around the back of his neck the fingers of my other hand fist in the soft worn material of his shirt suddenly under my palm holding him in place as if he were the one trying to escape moments before not me.

"You're safe…" He pulls me closer, tighter, pressed chest to chest. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist, fingers cradling my head holding me to him while I tremble and fight the urge to cry harder for some stupid reason my breath catching in tight high and thready gasps; fighting the wicked spasm of my own lungs to draw in enough air to ease the ache.

"Babe, it's okay…breathe." He leans back from me just a little in the dark; uses his hand against the nape of my neck to guide my forehead to his in the dark our noses touching.

"Breathe, you're safe. No one's ever going to hurt you again."

_God I want that to be true._

"Daryl." I whisper it into the dark; bring my fingers up to trace over his temple, down his rough cheeks, the pad of my thumb slips over his bottom lip.

"I'm here, it was just a nightmare; you're safe. I promise, just breathe."

Fear no longer claws at me, now it's been replaced by confusion. I know for a fact that he wasn't here when I feel asleep. I was running from him, but here he is like I never left. I half expect to turn on a light and find myself back in the warehouse; tucked away safe in our bed. Mika and Carol down the hall, we'll wake up and join our family laughing and talking like it never happened; Carl will be teasing me, throwing cereal at my head and Michonne's over breakfast… My chest constricts aching with a breath robbing bone deep pain.

I tremble wondering if I'm still asleep…if my nightmare has simply shifted into a different kind of torture I'm not sure which is more cruel…

"I'm dreaming aren't I, how are you here? I was running from you…" I stare at him even though it's pitch black around us, my eyes now just barely adjusting to the lack of light so that I can make out the barest hint of his form against the dark. His frame nothing more than a rough outline in the hint of moonlight through the glass and gauzy curtains moving in the breeze.

His breath is a soft huff of amusement against my lips fingers sliding down the side of my face, curling warm and gentle against my hair. His thumb brushing over the soft short wisps that always escape my braid to fall in front of my ear.

"You think you can tell me you love me and then run? I'd track you to the ends of the Earth Woman." I shiver and he pulls me closer, tucks me tight against his chest with his other arm, his next words making me tremble harder, drive the ache in my chest deeper. "There isn't anyone in this whole world I want the way that I want you. Don't matter what you can do, or what anyone else might think. You belong with _me_, you're _mine_."

Only in my dreams would Daryl say something so perfect to me… I breathe his name into the space between us, it's more sigh then sound feeling his fingers slide back through my hair his forehead leave mine, he's tilting my head; lifting his chin and then…

I rise to meet him melt against his mouth; moan my approval as his tongue curls against mine echoing his. His lips sliding over mine, retreating for only a moment to drag his teeth over my bottom lip before plunging into me again; hungry and possessive. His arm tightening against my waist, pulling me closer even as he twists; shifts so that I'm laying over his chest; instinctively knowing just as he always did not just in my dreams that I need to feel in control after such a nightmare.

I pull back from him just enough to whisper against his lips, my fingers trailing over the rough stubble lining his chin, feeling the scratch against the pads of my fingertips in vivid detail. I sigh against him, breathing him in. "This is a good dream." I've had enough horrifying ones to last a lifetime these last few weeks…

He moves, shifting against me, twisting us once more against the mattress before pulling me closer to him; one hand catching mine at his waist pushing it up to press down into the soft fabric of the pillow now under my head, his other fingers catching my chin tilting my lips against his for a few languid moments before he pulls back to stare down at me so intensely I can feel his eyes watching me even with the darkness pressed around us.

"'s not a dream girl."

His words work their way into my sleepy muddled brain tugging at my conscious setting alarm bells off inside my head finally snapping me into focus inciting a violent split second reaction more vicious than one would get dumping a bucket of ice water on a sleeping cat.

Daryl reacts the same second I do—expected it; aware as he was all along that this wasn't a dream. His hands lock around my arms tight enough to bruise shoving me back down to the mattress when I twist and curse in absolute horror, panic and outrage flashing through me all over again in one expounding heart stopping instant.

"Daryl No!"

"Relax, Shit Relax! Damnit Girl—_Quit!_"

I twist, manage to get a leg underneath me and buck my lower body up off the bed completely turning with the movement trying to throwing him off me. But he doesn't let go…too many Goddamn sparring sessions over the last few months—he's more than an even match for me most days, my sleep dazed panic not helping my cause.

His calf locks around the back of my knee pulling me with him. He snarls and curses when we hit the floor hard enough to drive the air from his lungs still rolling wrestling for the upper hand somehow smacking my elbow into the dresser.

I hiss involuntarily in pain and he coughs and curses again twisting us back the other way managing to pin me under him now straddling my waist sitting up so he's outlined in the light from the window both my wrists pinned beside my head in an iron grip.

"Quit before I hurt you Damnit!" His voice is raspy and rough still fighting for air.

"Let me go!"

"So you can bash me over the head? Not until you calm the Hell down!" I push against him only to get nowhere, he grunts with the effort to keep my wrists pinned in his grasp fingers tightening painfully over my skin trying to keep me still even as I continue to twist trying to yank my arms free. He shifts over me pressing me down into the carpet under my back with all his weight now; obviously afraid I'll get loose with my persistent struggling. He's hissing at me in the dark a second later. "Hell you think I'm gonna do?"

I have no idea and I don't want to find out. I have to get away from him before he pulls his knife, or gets his hands around my throat or—Kisses me…

My brain flounders, slams to a complete stop stumbling over the sensation of his lips suddenly pressed against mine, my whole body going still beneath him. I can't even breath… he pauses pulls back just enough to speak, but close enough that I can still feel his breath warm against my skin making my stupid traitorous stomach flip behind my ribs when he whispers my name so reverently.

He keeps his grip on my wrist rolling off of me wrenching me up off the carpet in the same movement; jerking me over him so I have to lurch up; I stagger sideways on one bent leg; falling towards him with his pull; failing to gain any leverage before I'm half dragged across him one palm pressed to his shoulder for balance most of my weight still on one leg now lying trapped bent flush against his side; the other sprawled half over his body so my other foot is left in the empty air with me partially sitting over his chest.

And he just gave me the advantage—no; he just gave me everything if this was an actual struggle…and then confusing me further his hands let go of my wrists completely a moment later…

I don't react when his hands release me. I just keep sitting half on top of him in astonishment, trying to understand him giving up _everything_ when he just so clearly had the upper hand—it doesn't make sense.

I'm breathing too fast—heart racing in my ears, pounding in my throat. I watch him move his hands slowly to his sides, flinch feeling his palms slide over my legs before stopping just below my hips—not grabbing; making no demands of me; just resting on the thin material over my skin.

"It's on the nightstand." His voice is rough and yet somehow calm.

I blink at him, struggle to understand, trying to catch up with a conversation I feel like I've joined half-way through. "What-?"

"My knife, it's on the nightstand. Go ahead, you want me to let you go; you'll have to kill me."

My inhale catches in my throat; locks there strangling off in a choking gasp while I shake my head in absolute horror. "No…"

His back jerks off of the carpet his hands tightening over my hips sliding me further into his lap so I'm straddling his thighs facing him fully my hands gripping his shoulders now; I'm not sure what he's about to do—I only know I can't hurt him; the idea alone jabs at my insides with a physical pain that steals my breath.

His right hand leaves my waist raises to cup my face stilling in the air for a moment when I jerk away from his touch drag my teeth over my lower lip nervously my voice trembles barely more than a whisper. "Daryl, what are we doing?"

He doesn't answer at first; simply slides his palm over my jaw slips his fingers back through my hair so his thumb rests against my temple while his other hand comes up and does the same against my other cheek. "Shit, aint been that long…"

"_Daryl_..." _The one time I need him to be serious…_

"I think they call it making up…"

My fingers wrap around his wrists—I don't remember consciously moving them until I feel his pulse racing under my thumb, beating frantically under his skin.

"Hell you so afraid of Girl?"

He leans into me, pauses waiting patiently while I exhale in a nervous rush pulling back just an inch before giving in; leaning into his hands and letting my eyes slip shut feeling him move closer—press his mouth to the corner of my lips before drawing back, then returning the same attention to the other side while my lips part in another shaky exhale that sounds even to my ears like his name while my hands slide down to his elbows; slip from his arms back to his waist…

This moment, each timid uncertain touch tugs at my memories, flooding me with the same powerful wash of emotions I lost myself in a what feels like a lifetime ago…the hesitant brush of his lips over mine just like our first kiss; only tonight I'm the one trembling with indecision, whimpering torn between running away and kissing him back despite the gentle rational in his words.

"You can't hurt me, how could I hurt you?"

My stomach flutters and my pulse races with something other than fear feeling his mouth slant over mine; just the briefest caress before drawing away again his withdraw halted by the sound that escapes me, by my own fingers wrapping around the back of his neck pulling him close whimpering his name and then he's kissing me.

_Really_ kissing me.

And it's glorious and beautiful and messy and perfect and so good I can't breathe or I forgot how to and I don't care; air can wait…the whole world and everything in it can stop spinning so I can expand this one moment, lose myself in it for all time.

I'm suddenly pressed against his chest flush shoulder to thigh; my hips dragged tighter against his lap straddling him with my legs anchored behind his back with my ankles crossed. I can feel him pressed against me hot skin on hot skin, taunt muscles bunching and flexing under questing fingers and the most perfect distracting bulge in just the right place pressing tight against me making my insides ignite in a searing mind numbing fire and my breath catch and a groan slip out against his lips when he grinds me against him one strong arm wrapped tight around my back holding me in place effortlessly.

He pulls back from me eventually breaking the kiss both of us gasping for air while he presses his nose into the crook of my shoulder breathing me in; palm moving in slow circles against my back voice rough and thick when he speaks against my skin making me shiver.

"You can't really think that I would hurt you, what kind of monster you think I am?"

"I thought you would be afraid." _Who wouldn't be?_ _I'm afraid… I _can't stop trembling.

"Not possible. Only thing scared me the last few weeks was losing _you_."

My insides summersault again at his words. I wet suddenly dry lips he groans arms tightening around me when the flick of my tongue accidently touches his skin where my face is pressed against his neck.

So I do it again slower this time, lingering over his pulse. Daryl says my name with a hint of warning, "Stop, 'fore I rip off your clothes," I slide my fingers over his back leaning against his chest failing to see the problem with that scenario.

"and that's…_bad_?"

"not right now…You need to rest, you have to be exhausted...shit I'm exhausted…"

I am too…unbelievable tired—achy and sore from the last few days exertion but I also want to feel him pressed against me skin to skin; moving inside me. Touching him is a powerful drug I can't get enough of, a high like nothing else. I ache and throb with need just from his kisses my core fluttering with a liquid rush of maddening desire just thinking about it, need pounding through every limb carried further with each press of my pulse racing fire through my veins.

"I want you first." He groans against my neck shaking his head in objection even as his fingers tighten unconsciously against my hips telegraphing the exact opposite to the fire under my skin.

"Not tonight, I'm so exhausted I'd probably embarrass myself and you need sleep…how long have the nightmares been that bad?"

I grip his shoulders tight hide my face against his collar even though he can't see more than a rough outline in the darkness surrounding us. "Since I left you."

He's silent for a long moment, hands moving in slow deliberately soothing circles over my spine slipping under my shirt to press against tight muscles and tense knots seeking them gently with his fingertips while I groan and lean into him relaxing against his chest under his skillful touch.

"Did you have them before, I don't remember them at the warehouse," I shake my head once against his chest breathing slowly, momentarily lost in the feeling of his hands kneading the knots under my skin releasing the last of the tightness coiled in my muscles.

"So you only have them when I'm not around. That makes perfect sense." I hum my question against his neck turning my face to breathe in his skin feeling the rough scratch of at least three days of unmanaged facial hair under my fingertips now skating down his jaw with a mind of their own; I don't even remember moving them. I sigh against him eyes slipping shut. "You need me to fight the monsters while you sleep, can't live without me then." He sounds just a touch smug I feel my own lips twist in response, my fingers closing over the front of his shirt.

That's not the only reason I don't want to live without him.

His hands move possessively down my back circle my waist rocking me against his erection making me gasp and bite my lip all over again. "As much as I want to take all night to show you exactly what you do to me; I'm tired as shit—and you're beat… we have all day tomorrow, we don't even have to leave this room." I like that idea, I like how warm he is… "Stand up."

"Don't wanna," I could just sleep right here…

"On the bed, _now._" And that simple command; and quiet confident tone shouldn't flood me with a hot flash of desire but it does. Daryl taking control of me always has that effect.

I push away from him backing up a few feet only to have him grab my arm when he climbs to his own feet. I move to the bed, lay down feeling ridiculously selfconscious with him watching me, my pulse racing when he slides over me, a flickering wash of disappointment flooding my senses despite my frayed nerves and exhaustion when he settles beside me with his back to the wall. I feel him slip under the sheets lying next to me in the low light.

He presses a single soft kiss to my lips in the dark before twisting me with one strong hand on my hip telling me to turn onto my side, so he's pressed against my back, the reassuring weight of his arm draped over me. I should close my eyes and sleep, but I can't help myself with him so close. I press closer to him, gasp at the sensation of heat zipping down through my belly pooling low and tight at just the feel of his rough jaw line scratch against my skin as he leans over me his chest pressed tight against my back so he can whisper in my ear. "Quit wiggling your damn ass around before I change my mind."

I hum only half listening sliding my hand down his side in the dark to press over his obvious arousal pulling a curse from his lips. His fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling my hand away, trapping it with his against the sheets in front of us halting my quest. he growls something against the side of my neck when I press my body back against him still not releasing his grip on my hands. His hand on my arm pulls me back against his chest he presses his face against my hair, breathing me in thumb sliding over the soft pale skin under his touch; grip softening turning into a slow soothing caress that's also deliciously possessive, and does wicked things to the heat gathering in my belly.

"Seraphim, don't make me tie you to the bed."

_Dear God_.

I hold my breathe biting my lip before leaning back against his chest. I can't help myself that thought _kills me..._I'll never sleep now… "Promise?"

He huffs sounding equally exasperated and just as turned on by that idea, cursing and practically quaking against me obviously warring with himself suddenly.

"Babe, _sleep;_ _Now_. You're going to need it tomorrow, don't think I've forgotten all your _little notes_ the other day." The last part is a low growl that makes my heart race.

I bite my lip wondering _which_ notes he's referring to _exactly_. The desire fluttering under my skin thrumming through my center with each heartbeat doesn't want to sleep; it wants to talk about it _now_; it wants to be sated...

But my eyelids also feel too heavy to keep open wrapped in his arms; his breath is warm against my ear, his lips pressing to my shoulder suddenly feel comforting—soothing if only slightly less erotic then before. The vivacious need clawing through my core gradually quiets…ebbs to a gentle hum that's almost always present in his embrace.

I'm unexpectedly aware of how safe I feel just from the shelter of his arm; the feel of his chest pressed warm and firm to my back so close to me I can feel each inhale; each beat of his heart echoing mine. I feel safer then I have in days…weeks really. I only now realize just how on edge I have been every moment of every day without him.

I feel like I've come home.

I sigh relaxing into him, pulling his arm tighter around me. The soothing quiet of sleep starts to pull me under after only a few short moments of listening to him breathe behind me, feeling his arms firmly wrapped around me; with his presence sheltering me from the darkness I pass safely into the first dreamless night of sleep in weeks.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

_Oh don't worry; they need their sleep; I'm NO WHERE NEAR done with the 'make-up' bits! ** ; P**_


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Serious Bummer.

**Notes**: This is a **Serious M Chapter** for Content; For Serious; M get me? Good. XD

It's also a very LONG chapter…because there was nowhere to break it up really that flowed well.

This might be more the 'reunion' peeps were expecting in 17... ; P

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

_(Fin's POV) _

* * *

The air is sticky, oppressive—heavy and too warm against my damp skin.

I move trying to escape the covers over my legs feel them yanked down from my waist by the force of my kick. The rush of slightly cooler air washes over me, but it's not enough.

I'm still half asleep; too hot, almost nauseous with it. I jerk the tie at my waist, wiggle my hips and shove the sweat damp annoyingly clinging material down my legs, pulling away from the arm under my ribs to yank them off my legs and tossing them over the side of the bed before stretching back out. Feeling the gloriously cooler air move over my overheated skin. I close my eyes again focus on the breeze in the window. The soft ruffle of curtains. The door is shut even in the darkness I can see it's white rectangle shape blaringly brighter against the darker painted walls in the moonlight filtered through the window. That can't be helping the air flow. Daryl must have shut it when he came in out of habit; safety from Walkers and prying eyes. But it's not like there's anybody here to see us.

I slip out from under Daryl's arm surprised he barely stirs. He really was exhausted. I pad on silent bare feet over the carpet barely avoiding banging my foot on his crossbow sitting abandoned on the floor. I frown down at it sliding it to the side with my foot.

One day I'm going to trip over that thing and kill myself.

Used to be people had to worry about tripping over shoes in the middle of the night; but not now—not me. No I have to worry about tripping over a crossbow.

I move down the short hallway and end up standing in the darkened living room for a moment trying to understand what I'm seeing when I realize the backdoor is wide open.

I pause for a heart pounding moment—gathering finally that there's no one here. I cross the room slowly the cold smooth floor of the kitchen feels good under my bare feet while I move to shut the door, clicking the lock in place. He must have left it open which is very unlike him—then I remember a snippet of my nightmare which I'm certain he woke me from and it makes perfect sense.

I move back down the hall, pausing in the bathroom to empty my bladder and go back to bed. Daryl stirs when I lay back down, mumbling something about not wandering off and throwing an arm back around my waist hauling me back to his chest.

I close my eyes, listening to the breeze outside—an owl hooting in one of the trees outside. Calling out a few times—not hunting obviously; looking for its mate. The breeze moves more steadily through the room now with the door open to draw it in—pull it up the hall and out the front windows I cracked open hours ago trying to air out the stale stuffy oppression that filled the house with a cloying deadness.

After a few moments I realize my skin feels almost too cool now. I sigh pulling away from Daryl again. This time he does react jerking awake and grabbing my wrist in the dark.

"Where are you going?" His voice is still thick, groggy with sleep even if his tone is alarmed.

"Nowhere, I just got cold." I grab the sheet and comforter for emphasis pulling them both back up to my waist covering my bare legs.

"I thought you were hot." He mumbles it against the back of my neck snuggling closer to me arms wrapping around me, shifting me closer telling me he was at least partially awake when I moved the first time.

"I was; I can't get comfortable." I shift again bumping into him drawing a muffled groan from where his face is pressed to my skin. His lips brush my neck, fingers pulling the collar of my scrub top off my shoulder; pulling the too-wide neck halfway down my arm while I struggle to control my breathing. I sigh—gasp feeling his teeth; his fingers slipping under the sheets gripping my hips he lifts his head staring down at me in the low light voice amused.

"Why don't I remember taking off your pants?"

I could almost laugh at his suspicious tone. I grin twisting my chin up to feel the rough scratch of his cheek over my skin as he leans into me again. "Because _you_ didn't take off my pants; I got too hot."

He grunts in approval. "We should move someplace tropical." His breath tickles my ear with him leaning closer. I arch my neck draw my hand up and back to run my fingers through his hair; brushing it back from where it's fallen against my skin tickling my neck.

"I thought you wanted to sleep…"

"That was before you weren't wearing any pants…aint no Damn Saint." He presses his body flush against mine, grinding against my lower back and I have to bite my lip, flooded instantly with heat all the way to my toes.

"You're going to make me hot again…" I whisper in mock protest.

"And wet." His low growl brushes my ear and _dear god yes, I'm already there_…

"Daryl…" and that's no good—It's a soft moan; not the tone I was aiming for at all—though I'm starting to forget what exactly my protest was for when his fingers tighten over my hip holding me captive while he rolls his hips; grinds his always impressive cock against my back still trapped behind too many clothes.

His hand leaves my side I miss the feel; the weight of his fingertips against my skin instantly. He's moving behind me shifts his hips keeping me from turning around to face him with his other arm—the one he wound under my side when I laid back down, it's now keeping me captive with a warm distracting palm slipping under my shirt.

When he moves against me again his erection throbs and twitches uncovered against my lower back; bare skin on bare skin making me gasp press back against the feel of him, the heat and throbbing hardness flooding my center with another rush of wet heat, clenching my innermost muscles in anticipation.

He rolls his hips against me lips moving over my shoulder hot open mouthed kisses raising my temperature, driving me to burn making me gasp and shiver grinding against his length drawing a heavy groan from him. I squirm trying to crawl up the bed the few inches I need to draw him closer. The heavy weight of him against my skin so close to where I need him to be driving me half-mad with the desire to lose myself in the delicious friction I can only achieve with him moving inside me. I need to feel him marking his claim even under my skin.

My core flutters and twitches every time he moves against me; need burns up my spine ignites my nerves and humming through my veins 'til even my toes curl and my fingers tingle clenching tight fists in the sheets at my waist.

I twist my neck press my face to the pillow breath coming in frantic pants that sound like a chant of his name when his hand drops down my abdomen presses to the junction of my thighs where I burn, tingling and spasming every thought, every nerve in my body focused on two rough calloused fingers and the most perfect friction and pressure.

I jerk cursing gasp tilting my hips into his touch body begging, shaking for more.

He rubs his erection against me grinds into my skin as he circles me with teasing digits; slips his hand farther back groaning approval against my neck gasping my name when his fingers encounter the slick heat I already know is waiting between my folds.

I jerk twisting, cursing when he stops me with his other arm from moving; His forearm locked around my waist in a vice grip. I groan in frustration, then curse and hiss moaning his name feeling his fingers slide deeper; curling against my walls while I shudder and clench tight against his invasion.

His breath is hot against my skin, ragged open mouthed pants while he fights for control, face pressed tight to my shoulder blade at my back cursing feeling my muscles lock around his fingers. His cock leaps against my back in response making me tremble reach behind me; between us taking him in my hand.

He grunts sounding strained his fingers still and his breathing grows even more harsh—his arm tightens around my waist shifting me up the bed, his hand leaves me feeling empty, bereft without his touch but I don't complain because his hand locks over mine against his skin.

He shifts us both and I practically claw my way up the bed to help him; roll and arch my body towards him parting my thighs gasping and biting my lip and somehow feeling very naughty in this position. The sensation makes me feel even hotter, clenches my womb, flutters under my superheated skin sending warm tingles to dance and spiral out through my limbs all the way to my toes.

I feel his head slide against my slick entrance coating himself in my heat drawing more down his shaft as he rubs against me with his full length groaning against my back as my body responds with another wave of trembles; I don't think I've ever been this wet; this ready and desperate with need. The primal need of my body centered in my core achingly ready for him; his continued resistance; absence from my folds damn near painful.

I shift again so I can move my hand to the space between my thighs feel him jerk and curse when I touch him; press him to the right spot and _ohGod_!

I jerk, twist. My whole body reacts to his thrust. My spine twisting around itself until I'm pressed facedown nose buried against the mattress fists gathering up the sheets between my fingers even while my hips rock farther back against his body driving him deeper, my walls locking impossibly tight around his cock in a velvet fist of perfect heat and friction driving us both mad.

I gasp, twisting the sheets against my palms both hands clawing at them trying to ground myself with the fire burning through my core—the hard throbbing pressure of him stretching my walls, it's all friction and heat and pleasure; white hot, searing up my core to explode behind my eyes with each surge of his hips pounding his body into mine.

I groan his name writhing; thrashing helplessly lost in the sensations searing through me with each almost brutal upwards twist of his hips. I release the sheets with one hand grasping one of his where he's holding me captive; covering his skin encouraging him to squeeze even tighter where his fingertips are pressed already bruising tight almost painfully to my skin. Everything about his touch tonight feels wickedly sinful, right on the edge of losing control and so hot I need more. His tight grip pulls my body back into each welcome invasion of his hard length, claiming me with each drive of his hips into my waiting liquid heat. I shudder, thrash again barely able to whimper his name digging my fingers into his wrist locking him to me when I feel the threat of spiraling away growing very near.

"Too much?" He slows for a moment and I groan shoving my hips back against him in desperation, shaking my head; eyes clenched tight.

"No, God….not enough; harder." I barely recognize the croaking plea as my own voice, the vixen that's taken up residence under my skin making me gasp and rock back almost violently against him feeling something primal building in my chest so intense it almost frightens me even while I beg him to fuck me.

He likes that, curses telling me he's going to do just that, and that I'm going to beg him for it in such a rough growl that has me shuddering and nodding desperately, reaching back to tangle my fingers in his hair pleading in a voice I don't recognize and then his arm is around my waist once more; yanking me back roughly; pinning me flush to his chest, heated skin to skin where clothing has shifted; ridden up with each movement. His hand slips over my breast fingers teasing over them while I gasp and moan and beg him to make it _faster, harder_… because I can feel it, so close I can almost grasp it and _God _

_yes_…

There's nothing but white noise in my ears and pleasure slamming through me with each violent thrust of his hips his ragged breathing against my neck now punctuated by a wild animalistic snarl that ends with his body plunging so deep it's like he's trying to imprint himself under my very skin; drive himself so far we'll never come undone again and then his teeth slide against the sensitive skin over my pulse almost sending me shattering all over again before I'm even done while I shake and keen and thrash begging him almost sobbing to get me there again because it's so intense; so close…

He bites down over my skin hard enough to leave a mark and I explode all around him my neck twisting to press my face against the sheets screaming. My consciousness flies apart in the darkness; my walls locking and clenching over him seizing around his still thrusting cock he groans and curses, forehead pressed to my shoulder feeling me tightening and seizing around him; the waves of my release pulling a low possessive growl of my name from his lips.

I buck and twist whimper his name trying to remember how to breathe around the onslaught of sensation pulling me down; shattering me in a million directions a billion nerves and sparks focused on driving me out of my mind.

I jerk and curse him, gasping when he pulls his body from me completely before I'm finished. My walls close over his absence in protest with my next shuddering wave feeling empty; robbed of his friction and weight...needing his heavy girth to heighten the sensations still crashing through me in waves that make all other thought impossible.

I smack my palm into his shoulder with more coordination then I should have right now, rallied with my frustration hissing my complaint while my muscles shake uncontrollably through my whole frame I smack him again even as he turns me, chuckling darkly at my second half-hearted hiss of "Bastard!" against his skin.

He all but throws my legs apart pressing my back to the sheets and parting my thighs further with his hips. And that's more like it. I squirm, trying to wiggle myself closer even as he's aligning himself with one hand barking a sharp "_Quit_" that has my stomach flipping and my insides quivering at the intensity of his command. Some deep part of me recognizing and thrilling secretly at the blaze of power in his eyes before sending electric currents dancing across my skin in answer; heat trickles up my spine adding to the flush already coloring my skin because commanding Daryl is one I rarely get to see and God, it's a rush…and then without further warning he presses forward driving deep in one single hard thrust.

I arch, sob feeling him buried so deep, dig my nails against this spine positive I'm leaving marks; and uncaring because in four sharp thrusts I'm riding a second cresting wave under him trembling and gasping; channel locking around him with another flush of heat and need and I can't breathe, can't even remember my own name…or when it's ever been this intense…

There's just sensation. And even that defies logic; overwhelms me to the point where pleasure blends into pain.

Heat sears through me like a wildfire in my veins; burning me white hot and too bright and it's almost agony as I arch and roll my hips with his hands locked around me; holding him above me, keeping me grounded so I can't fly apart; holding me prisoner at the same time he drives me closer to the freedom of my release catapulting me over the edge of the abyss into spinning darkness filled with a million sparkling dancing lights.

My shirt his ridden up past my ribs with my frantic movements and his. I can feel the sweat of his skin and mine as he slides against me; muscles bunching and rolling in a fascinating primal dance only he could master so brilliantly. I drag my hand down his abdomen feel his muscles tense and ripple with each roll of his hips crashing into me shoving us both slowly up the bed so that I have to smack the pillows out of my way; knocking them to the floor before I'm buried underneath them. I wrap my legs around his hips and just ride it out eyes slipping shut feeling it build one more time biting my lip to hold in the scream because this man is a _God_…

I'm going to die right here bursting into flames.

"Look at me." It's dark but I do it anyway; can barely make out the dark captivating cobalt of his eyes in the moonlight from the open window and the dark shadows cast across his face. His dark heavy bangs hang around his face deepening the shadows.

I raise my hand run my fingers through his hair feel him slow at my hesitant touch, each movement an achingly slow but still powerful roll of his hips grinding down into me now; changing the pressure; no less pleasurable; somehow infinitely more sweet. And it's no longer a scream building in my throat; it's become a breathless sigh pouring through my chest a delicate ache humming beneath my skin still building under his bright blue eyes.

"Tell me you love me."

_Oh god._

I roll my hips unconsciously against his next thrust when my insides clench and lock around his cock with his request, and I feel and hear him hiss driving into me harder in reaction. The hum becomes a whirling storm under my skin again.

I gasp, back arching, "I love you."

_I do._

I brush my palm over his rough cheek, feeling it overwhelming every corner of my soul burning through me melting every last resistance I tried to put up to protect my broken heart these last few weeks. I bite my lip at the sensations still building, swirling impossibly tight inside me; not just around him—but deep inside my chest overlapping my racing heart. It feels like parts of me that have been ice cold for weeks are finally melting.

"Say it again." He moves against me, dropping closer; chest to chest still rolling his hips; grinding into me with each glide of his body through my heat. I hike my leg further over his back dragging him deeper while he presses his nose to my skin, voice in my ear shaking in perfect counterpart to his trembling hands suddenly cradling the side of my face; his other hand moving out finding me so that his fingers lace through mine against the sheets; holding me down; anchoring me with his touch in the darkness.

"I love you Daryl."

Every part of him trembles when I whisper it to him again in the dark this close, this quiet, all the weight of the world pressed into those simple words; the tension rolls through him muscles locking around me, against me; I recognize instantly his climax deep inside me the gasping whimpered sigh it pulls from his lips pushes me over the edge once more. And I'm torn between knowing whether it's the way his teeth nip at my earlobe, dragging his teeth over sensitive skin before sucking the sting away with his hot mouth or if it's his gentle reverent words push me into the center of the storm with him one last time.

"_I love you too"_

Three words I never thought I'd hear him say out loud.

I sigh against his chest waves of pleasure rippling out from my center, hand clasped tight around his back as he says it again, presses the words to my ear, unmistakable even with his low guttural whisper while he's still rocking against me; buried inside me so deep he's got to be piercing my womb, every nerve in my body centered on feeling my release spasm and tighten milking every last pleasurable wave of his release pulling him deeper inside me still because even my body cresting on a wave of climax can't get enough of him.

A lifetime of loving this man will never be enough…

We lay perfectly still, breathing against one another for a brief moment; until my hip starts to protest the prolonged stretch and I have to drop my calf from his hips straighten my leg out on the mattress shifting beneath him.

"Did I hurt you?"

_He always asks…I can't help but find his continued concern even after all this time infinitely sweet and endearing. _

I shake my head against his neck; breathing him in, realizing how much I missed the even the scent of his skin; the wild scent of male and the ever present subtle hint of leather and earth…I tighten my arm around his shoulders. His scent reminds me of the gentle blend of life the smell of the earth and trees in the deep woods right after a summer rain when the ozone of life hangs in the air so thick you can almost taste it on your tongue. He smells green the way a leaf does when you fold it in half breaking it's skin…he smells like life itself.

"No, I'll be sore tomorrow…but you didn't hurt me."

I feel him frown against my skin. I slide my fingers down his spine catching in the creases of the sleeveless shirt he still has on twisting the material into a bunched knot in my hand against his lower back. "I'm okay, it's just…it's been a while."

"Should have taken it a little slower…" He presses a kiss to my collarbone, hair falling forward to tickle my skin.

"No, it was perfect." We drift for a few moments, still partially lost in the warm fuzzies swirling under my skin; fluttering with little aftershocks of pleasure that cause my breath to hitch against his neck.

He shifts over me; pulling his body from mine ignoring my protesting groan in favor of resting on one hip against my side, his fingertips tracing over my skin. I flinch for a moment when the trail of his finger stings over my neck staring at him wide eyed drawing my own free hand up to prod at the sore spot just at the junction of my neck.

"Did you bite me?" And even in the low light he looks smug.

"In your letter you said they don't like the way you taste; and I have to disagree; I think you taste delicious."

My brain short circuits over that thought staring at him in the dark his name barely a whisper. "Daryl…"

"If you wanted to stay, why didn't you come home?"

I bite my lip, start to shift against the sheets and stop when his fingers lock around my hip keeping my body pressed to his, his knee rising higher; pinning my thighs to the bed stopping any bid for escape I might make.

Not that I could, my muscles are still all jittery, I'm not certain whole parts of me didn't physically melt during those last few orgasms, I still feel all tingly inside…

"You said you would Stay." I swallow staring at him in the darkness, the breeze from the open window tickling over sweat damp skin. "You say you love me, and then you run."

"I was afraid." Even my voice trembles.

He pauses for a long moment, long enough that my heart is racing out of control again when he speaks. "Of me?" His tone is tight, but it's not anger…it's more raw nerves; pain I recognize because it's mirrored in me.

"I was afraid of what you would say; that you would hate me; hearing you reject me; fear me…I don't think I'd survive…" I have to bite my lip fighting back tears. "Just being away from you I wanted to die…"

He leans into me, breath warm against my cheek, arm moving; his fingers sliding up my side, slipping down my arm now rested against my side on the sheets.

"How about a little faith in the person who wants to spend the rest of their life with you?" I feel his fingertip tracing words against the sensitive pale skin below the inside of my elbow trailing down to my wrist and I sigh twisting my face to press closer to him whispering my apology and acknowledging the words he's writing down my arm.

"I'm sorry, I love you."

His hand rises to cup my cheek, keeping me pressed to him. "You are beautiful, and infuriating and impossible and I swear girl you aim to drive me outta my mind…" He pauses drawing in a slow breath. "Are you're really immune?"

I pause, stilling underneath him; feel his fingers tighten over mine still clasped over our heads with his other hand against the bed sheets. "Yeah, I guess that's what you'd call it…it doesn't scare you? What I did on the road…"

He lifts his head to stare down at me. "I love you, why would finding out that you're safe from Walkers bother me? It's the second most amazing thing I've heard in my life."

I stare at him still trying to catch my breath over hearing him say it so casually again. "What's the first?"

"That you love me."

That's the best answer I've ever heard in my life.

I pull his lips down to mine and just lose myself against his lips until he breaks off needing air. He twists us to lay almost flush on our sides, pressed to my lips for another moment before pulling back voice quiet.

"Your nightmares.—" I nod slowly feel my heart stumble, skip a beat anxiously thinking about those memories. "Are they about what happened with Carl on the highway?"

I shake my head. "No." My voice suddenly sounds too thick; rough. I swallow.

He stares at me. "I didn't think so…it sounded like someone was hurting you…" He pauses, inhales slowly before he continues hesitating on the words. "You don't have to tell me if you can't, just…just tell me who ever it was…Tell me they're dead now or tell me where they are so I can kill them myself." His tone has become venom and steel in the darkness and I love him all the more for it.

"They're dead."

"Good." He wants to ask more. I can feel the hesitancy hanging around us like a physical weight.

I bite my lip turning my head away to face the far wall. "I don't want you to hate me…"

His hands cup my face. "I could _never_ hate you. You don't have to tell me…if it's too painful."

I close my eyes, it's easier to say it hiding in the dark. "When I get really scared, not just afraid…When someone hurts me; when I think I'm going to die…" I pause, breathing slowly not sure I can continue.

"The night on the farm, the herd…you did that when they…when they were hurting you." He stares down at me while I bite my lip heart racing in the dark loud enough to drum in my ears.

"Yes, I was trying to wait until you were out of there. I wanted to give you a chance to escape with everyone else. I gathered enough of them to tear the house down; kill them all so they couldn't hurt anyone else… I didn't think you were going to stop and look for me… I didn't mean to draw them so fast; I just…I couldn't stop it."

He lets my hand go so he can use both arms to pull me closer, hands warm and firm; a comforting familiar weight against my back. "Don't ever apologize to me for something so ridiculous, you gave yourself up to those piece of shit dicks, what they did to you…there aren't words to tell you how sorry I am; that I didn't get there fast enough to stop them…I hate myself for it…" His voice falters. "Carl said they had you on the farm before…"

I nod.

"Did they…did they do that to you before? Like you told Sasha…is that…" He stops cursing arms tightening around me. "I can't even say it, Fuck. I hate this; even knowing they're dead…"

"David rescued me in the woods. I got caught by this huge group of people; all men…some kind of hunting or scavenging party. There had to be twenty or more of them…I can still remember the guys accent when he…" I shudder feel Daryl tense against me, his whole frame unerringly stone still.

"I never…God it's so stupid…I'd never even been with anyone before that…They were taking turns…and it hurt so bad I just wanted to die…I couldn't get away from them; and then there were just Walkers _everywhere_—they ate them all—more than that; they ripped them apart and I just… I had to lay there listening to them all dying. I couldn't even crawl away with the way they had me tied up…with what they did to me… and I didn't care that they were being eaten alive…I _wanted_ them to die…I didn't even realize I brought the Walkers until later…and even then it was just a suspicion…I wasn't sure myself until I did it again; when Kyle and Eli…" I shudder. "I killed them, they hurt me; so I killed them all. I'm a monster…"

"You're _not_ a monster, they were; and they deserved what they got; deserved worse. Bastards can all rot in Hell." Daryl's arms have been tightening around me with every word; it's almost hard to breathe in his grasp, it should feel restricting; binding. I should feel trapped. Instead I feel safe.

"Hold me tighter." I press my face to his chest as he does, so close I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek, can barely breath and it still doesn't feel close enough.

Daryl is silent for a long moment. "How long ago was it, when the first group found you?"

"Just a few months after everything happened; it was still summer." I practically feel Daryl wince, muscles tightening against me. I flinch unsure what brought such a reaction on. "What?"

"You said he had an accent, what was it?" His tone sounds odd, and that's an unusual question to have; of all the things I imagined him picking out of that story; that wasn't one of them.

"Northern? Jersey or New York…they definitely weren't from Georgia, or anywhere in the south, why?"

"We were on a farm that first summer, maybe fifty miles from the warehouse; closer to Atlanta. Hershel's farm; Maggie and Beth's Father… Rick and Glenn they brought this kid back; local boy that got injured. He'd been taken in by this group; all from up north. We had an awful time trying to figure out what to do with him." He hesitates for a moment swallowing, "I had to…ask him questions; he told me this story about the guys in his group…going out finding a man and his two daughters; when he told me what they did to them I knew they were the worst kind of people…Rick met two of them he had to kill them before they shot him…they had Jersey accents."

"Yeah…could be the same group..."

"Jesus." He presses his face to my shoulder. "That farm house in the woods when I was looking for Sophia; the group Rick ran into… You were _right there_ the _whole_ time, couldn't have been but a few miles from us the past two years and I never found you… If I could just go back, they never would have had a chance to lay a hand on you..."

I tilt my forehead against his temple, let my eyes slip closed. "You didn't _know_ me Daryl; I didn't know you… Don't beat yourself up over what could have been…that's a long ugly road…"

"I'd know you anywhere."

And God that shouldn't make my stomach flip and heat curl through my chest. I can't speak; simply press closer to him feeling his warmth slide across my skin.

"I wish they hadn't found me, just so you'd be the only one I'd ever been with…"

"Hell you talking 'bout; _I am_ the only one you been with; what those assholes did don't count; not for that. First time you were with me; _that_ was real. Nearly killed me that night realizing you wanted me to touch you…that I could…" He breathes a soft curse shaking his head. "I just keep thinking I could have stopped so many terrible things from happening to you…I could have kept you safe."

"Keep me safe now."

"Shit, I'm hiding behind _you_ from now on. You're the one with super powers." He's teasing me, like it's no big deal; like it's completely normal what I can do, and God. It's a heavy weight lifted off my chest I didn't realize I was still holding onto at least in some part.

I laugh, and God it feels good. It feels liberating.

"Fine, then I'll use my super powers for good, keep us all safe."

He leans his forehead to mine, fingers cupping the side of my face thumb tracing my cheekbone whisper soft. "We'll keep each other safe."

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

**Notes: **Long chapter! And a bit more fluffy at the end then normal; but at this point it felt appropriate; hope it didn't come off as to OOC for Daryl. I'd hope that this far into a serious relationship he'd be able to admit he loves someone; and talk almost like a sorta 'normal' adult; doesn't mean he's going to go all Mr. big mouth with everyone else… lol

Plus I figured after 16 and a ½-ish chapters of angst it was time for some fun! Did that fit the bill? ; P

Enjoy it while it lasts Finryl you live in the universe of TWD afterall...*evil cackle*


	20. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer**: Oh boy if you don't know by now we have a problem…

**Notes**: Thanks to all the readers and reviewers…and yes the evil cackle was for a good reason! Muhahahahaha…but in the meantime distract yourself with this M rated chapter… xD

Daryl's got some issues with the things Finny wrote in the dirt…oh boy! O_o

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**Chapter Nineteen**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

I wake to the feel of hot skin pressed against me. I moan stretching sore stiff muscles under the firm press of perfectly calloused palms and fingertips working their way up my sides drawing my too loose scrub shirt up and over my head with a little assistance on my part.

I lift my head feeling the material slide up and off; catching on the braid knot at the base of my skull for a moment. The slight breeze and sound of cloth falling to the floor the only other movement in the room while I lick my lips keep my eyes shut focusing on the tremors already flooding my body with desire.

I gasp; knot my fingers through his hair when his breath caresses my skin, telling me where he is. I can practically feel him, see him; even behind my closed eyelids posed over me possessively. His hands tracing down my sides only fuel the flames. They move with a languid, leisurely pace; skirting down to frame my hips while I stretch and flex sleep stiff muscles beneath him, arch my spine slowly into his touch feeling almost like a cat. The sound that emanates from somewhere in the vicinity my throat definitely emulates a purr.

"Are you going to touch me, or just think about it?" I open one eye to find him staring up at me, one dark eyebrow quirked under a fall of darker hair in the soft early morning light.

He exhales against my skin again deliberately, and I marvel at the instant sweet rush of molten heat curling through my core in response. The throbbing need of my body though just barely awake already thrumming with wicked tension. My nerves all skittering and leaping with little sparks of electric current just from the way his eyes travel over my bare skin; and the feel of his warm breath against my navel.

He's thinking when he should be touching. I can practically see the cogs turning in his head; see the thoughts behind his guarded grey blue eyes this morning. His gaze locked to mine for a brief flash before his presses his lips just beside my belly button tongue flicking out to circle a freckle that marks my skin there causing heat to leap up my spine and my thighs to twitch against the sheets in reflex. I draw them up so the insides of my calves frame his waist, "What is it?" I slide my fingers through his bangs unable to reach much else, watching him while he stares down at my skin without raising his eyes to mine for a long moment.

Daryl's arms wrap around me, lifting my lower back from the bed raising my skin up to meet his tongue already lathing against my skin in a deliciously slow hot caress before diving into the shallow dip in my skin blowing a rush of hot air rolling out across my skin. My spine bows, head tilting back, eyes slipping shut; gasping while my hips tilt toward him in silent invitation.

His arms slide from behind me just as quickly; roaming; exploring and mapping my skin his palms sliding up my ribs, fingers curling gently and possessively over the soft globes of my breast now under his palms. I arch and press into his touch biting my lip to quiet a soft moan when his thumbs brush over my nipples teasingly flicking their tips sending heat flooding through me straight to my center, excitement and wanton lust racing out through my veins.

He hums softly against my skin, mouth pressing hungry and insistent for a moment to the sharp curve where the soft inward curve of waist meets hip before tracing his nose up my skin as I arch twisting my chin up instinctively offering more of myself to his touch.

His hands continue to slide over me pulling a moan from my throat my eyes slipping shut blocking out everything but the feel of him pressed against my frame; his warm hands brushing over quickly overheating skin.

His voice tickles my ear, tone intrigued and husky all at once. "Your breasts feel larger…"

I snort still leaning further into his touch. _Wishful thinking no doubt._ "Must be all that vending machine food at the hospital." I'm surprised it didn't go straight to my ass, too many candy bars and pretzels even if I threw half of them up.

I hiss a quick and startled "Hey! Ouch!" Jerking under his hands in protest pressing back into the bed escaping his touch when he squeezes too hard.

"Sorry," He presses a kiss to my collar bone in apology. His touch tempering immediately, cupping me gently before slipping down over my sides with just the barest hint of a caress against my skin; teasing me while I squirm under his hands feeling more liquid heat throb in time with my heartbeat flutter and spasm in anticipation between my folds long past ready for his touch.

"Maggie's pregnant."

My brain stumbles over the words while his fingers slide down my sides again, and my stomach flips; nerves and uncertainty pressing at the pleasure centered fog humming in my veins unsure where he's going with this…

"I know." It was in my letter. Surely they all know by now…it's been weeks…she'll be showing soon. I couldn't tell from a distance in the parking lot…too distracted with trying to make sure they all lived; that I could get away…

I push a few stray locks away from my forehead let my arm fall out onto the bed fingers still caught in the loose strands of my hair worked loose from my braid now fanned out beside my head partially tangled in my fingers. I wait wondering. Unsure if I should touch him with whatever train of thought he's currently following…

My teeth drag across my bottom lip biting back a groan when he moves lower again, hands against my sides pressed to the mattress pinning me between the muscled column of his arms, his tongue darts out and circles my navel, while I leap against his touch. He repeats the movement while I shake, breath catching as he moves lower goosebumps breaking out across my skin.

"If you're trying to tell me that it's yours I'm going to kill you no matter what your mouth is doing…" I gasp sharply feeling his teeth nip over sensitive skin in rebuttal.

He glares up at me face still hovering just over my skin for a moment shaking his head looking harassed.

"Alright then…so its Glenn's…why…?"

"I want that."

I stare at him in utter shock even as his next words do fascinating things to the heat sliding through my chest, to the pulse I can feel beating against my throat.

"I want a little boy with dark hair and your eyes, and a little girl who looks just like you because you're beautiful and perfect." He slides his hands up my sides fingers spanning the smallest curve of my tucked in waist thumbs brushing over my skin heating me all the way through to my bones.

I bite my lip staring up at him suddenly nervous and hesitant under his gaze, my voice barely a whisper.

"What's this sudden desire to witness me getting stretch marks and morning sickness and…mood swings?" I have to bite my lip then, grip the sheets beside my hips with the heat of his mouth sliding over my skin; trailing lower again while my insides flutter and clench. And it's nothing compared to the searing heat flashing up my spine the second he looks up at me; the delicious possessive hunger and want simmering under those swirling deepening grey-blue eyes.

My whole body flushes, tingles with a million nerve endings all over-sensitized at once in a brilliant flood of desire and need crowding out all my other senses while his tongue moves over me in a teasing flick of heat.

"not that sudden, been think'n bout it for months…"

I jerk and curse softly, every muscle tensing; shaking with need. I can't think, can scarcely breathe with his hot mouth pressed against the smooth skin between my hips; or maybe it's the gravely tone of his voice making my brain go all fuzzy and spinning with a blinding haze of desire. When he speaks again he pressing hot wet open mouth caresses against my skin between every word; slowly moving over my skin marking me with his invisible claim while I tremble and tilt my hips into his glorious assault. His fingers weight against my skin parting me while I tremble and buck jerking towards his hand when his thumb slides higher presses against my gathering heat circling gently over my pearl of nerves making my breath hitch catching in my chest mid-exhale.

"I spent every fucking night since you've been gone thinking about all the things I'd lost without you…I want to put my hands on your skin and feel _our_ baby move. I want to hold them in my arms and see you, and me…us together in one perfect tiny person."

And ohmy_god_. I can't catch my breath staring up at him. Not after those words; not with that liquid blue heat boring into me never looking away, with him moving back up my body crawling over me. The fierce emotion in his eyes keeping me trapped, laying me bare while tendrils of longing tug at my nerves spark and tingle low rising up through my belly; spreading through my limbs with every push of my pulse.

"I…" I swallow tilting my chin up to stare at the ceiling drawing a deep breath into my lungs; not sure how to tell him other than just coming out with it now.

"I thought I was pregnant too…"

He goes unearthly still against my skin. When I glance down he's watching me so intensely it makes my pulse stumble out of time. I feel a bit dizzy and realize I need to breathe.

"You _thought_? Or you _are_?" His look is sliding towards a glower his hands closing tight over my skin.

"I took a test, just the other day…It said no."

"Did you _think_ you were _before_ you jumped off that God Damn Bridge?!"

I shake my head so hard it rattles my teeth. When I look at him again his jaw is clenched tight still watching me; teetering dangerously close to a total Manbeast reaction.

Over-protective Daryl in full freak-out mode…

"No I swear, just the last few days; I kept feeling sick…but I took the test and…no, I think I was just exhausted." I exhale in a rush head dropping back against the mattress again letting my eyes slip shut feeling that same aching sting centered in my chest no less intense than before. And I can definitely define the ache now: Disappointment.

His next words throw me for a loop.

"_I'm pregnant, it's Rick's_?"

My frantic pulse only increasing when I recognize them a second later; understand what he's referring to now. And _yikes._ Because he's using that deadly calm tone when it feels like he should be screaming especially with the way his hands are shaking suddenly against my skin.

_Uh…_ oh.

I bite my lip one eye opening to glance at him taking in his contemptuous, near livid expression. I groan and cover my face with my hand cheeks flushing to match my hair.

"_Please_ tell me that Rick didn't read _That_ one…"

_Or Carl… _I realize._ Good Lord_. I swallow. Then my eyes pop open with a startling thought.

"Wait. You didn't kill him did you? It was a lie, obviously." I stammer while his eyes narrow at me. His voice is barely more than a low growl when he continues his expression bordering on scary.

"And how about _'I like it when you spank me hard enough to make my pussy twitch_?"

_Oh My God._ I cover my eyes with my palm twisting under him so that my whole body is turned away trying to hide.

That was probably the most vulgar thing I've ever written in my _Life_.

I have one too many raunchy romance novels to thank for that line… I was trying to upset him…and it worked. I just didn't think about his reaction should he ever find me to ask about it… I definitely couldn't imagine that he'd be _on top of me_ when he decided to bring it up…

…_and that I'd be naked._

Thank you Universe. Your wicked sense of justice is duly noted. Now I'll just crawl away and die of embarrassment in private thank you very much.

Except no, because Daryl is still staring at me, waiting for some kind of response I realize when he speaks a second later. "Well?" He's still glowering up at me when I peek out from under my hand…

"Uh…well…what?" I can feel the heat radiating off my cheeks.

"Is that one a lie too?" His fingers tighten on my waist look darkening with something _other_ than anger, and _oh god_…heat zips up my spine, bum rushing my overtaxed senses at that look.

"I uh…thought it might un-hinge you enough to screw up your tracking…so I could get away..."

"You gonna tell me you actually wanted that…"

I stare at him, stomach summersaulting around my insides. I lick my lips watching him, waiting for him to elaborate. Trying to figure out if he's talking about my escape… Because he can't possibly be talking about _actually_ spanking me… just the thought makes my brain seize up; turn to a useless roar of distracting white noise.

"_Wanted what_?!" My reply sounds more like an anxious squeak then a question; divulging the serial flutters in residence under my skin the heat licking up my spine fanned higher by the incredible images suddenly swarming my brain. And _Oh wow,_ who knew actually thinking about that as a possibility would be such a turn on? _Oh boy am I in trouble..._

I swallow and try to clear my throat growing more nervous under that look before attempting to scoot up the bed crawling out from under him; only to be yanked back down with a startled gasp and a rush of wet heat between my legs a second later.

His hand grips my hip rolling me back flush with the sheets beneath him while his nose trails over my skin, darkening eyes finding mine through a dark curtain of crooked bangs.

"You trying to tell me when you wrote that you didn't _want_ me to catch you thinking about those words? Tell me you weren't hoping for that _exact scenario_. Go ahead girl and tell me that you didn't want me to track your ass down, pin you against the nearest solid surface and remind you that your _mine, _make you scream my name_..._"

_Jesus._ Those words, that tone; that imagery makes me melt from the inside out. And he's just watching me barely touching me still and it does something to the desire burning under my skin; amplifies it tenfold with a rush of desperate need while I bite my lip just anticipating his touch wondering when it will come; my cheeks flushing dark pink under that wild look. He doesn't move, still watching me through those impossibly dark long lashes even while I draw my calf around his thigh pulling his hips down to slide his skin against me; pressing him where he needs to be to spread this ache under my skin pushing out through my veins…

I nod, not sure I trust my voice to form coherent words "I…" I gasp breathless as his mouth moves against my skin suddenly stealing my breath. "God, yes I wanted that…" and then my tongue can't form words because he's pressing into me with the perfect angle; parting and stretching me wide, possessive questing fingers sliding over my skin.

My shoulders roll off the bed, my entire spine curling with an intense wash of liquid heat that gathers where we're joined, spasms and clenches around the burning stretch of his girth filling me with such perfect aching slowness. He's giving me time to feel each rush of sensation; each tightening spasm of my innermost muscles clamping around his invasion as he moves painstakingly slow inside me, nothing like the night before; taking me inch by mind blowing inch. And _fuck._

His breath brushes my ear when he's fully seated; filling me to almost the point of pain; teeth stinging briefly over sensitive skin before his tongue swirls away any memory of the small assault.

"Next time you take a damn test, I'm going to _be_ there; and it's going to say _yes_…"

_Oh, my God._

I gasp, whole body arching off the bed under his touch, tormented with bright flashes of heat and intense mind-numbing tremors of need. And he hasn't even moved yet…

"You know I can't get pregnant yet, right?"

His only response is to move inside me; withdrawing from my heat fast and hard before slamming into me again with a burst of white light and mind-numbing pleasure arcing through every nerve and _Fuck!_

I gasp, cling to him breathing too hard, too fast; pressing my face against his warm neck breathing him in, feeling him sliding under my skin. And I guess it doesn't hurt to practice…and _oh_. _God_.

Every sinful glide pours liquid fire through my veins; melting my spine and already I'm feeling the edge slide closer… my muscles all tighten and tremble around his thrust. I'm spiraling tighter under those scorching blue eyes…my whole body, every inch of skin is burning, tingling… It's so intense I'm certain I'm dying and at the same time I've never felt more alive…

My fingers press over his spine, feeling muscles tense and glide under hot skin while he moves against me and I'm ready to tip, teetering on the brink; so close…one more little touch will send me spiraling off into the abyss…and he knows; he _always_ knows.

He dips his mouth to press to my neck, bathing my skin with his tongue; dragging teasing teeth over my skin with just the hint of sting; ripping the last ounce of will power from my grasp; snapping the last string to sanity and all I can do is let go: feel the world fall away around me spinning and exploding into a pinpoint focus of just this moment; there's nothing else, there might never be again…

I'm floating, and falling and shattering all at once. Mind numbing pleasure curls through my belly; crawls up my back tingles against the base of my spine; sparks and lights; dances in a brilliant display of nerve endings imploding behind my clenched shut eyes. Each thrust of his hips sends electric currents through my nerves; racing through my veins; thrumming and superheating my skin until I can't breathe.

I flop back boneless against the sheets flushed and breathless legs somehow still wrapped around his narrow hips; still sliding against mine while he groans my name and drags his teeth over my bottom lip.

I arch against him, when his fingers tighten painfully over my shoulder, against my hip and he slams into me his previous rhythm lost in the last few jagged thrust of his hips, as his own climax nears. His release when it breaks inside me pulling an answering wave of desire and fluttering heat from my muscles still locked quivering and squeezing around him, pulling him deeper, too many sensations burning through me at once to separate a single one; dragging us both back under; or pushing us over I'm not sure anymore…

I can't do anything but gasp for my next breath against his skin and float on the tingling waves of need curling around every nerve ending bursting up my spine with the heat and strength of a lightening striking down.

He shakes over me; against me, nose pressed to the hollow between neck and collar, breathing wild; completely out of control his hips still rolling in a desperate grinding circle where he's cradled between my thighs, riding out the aftershocks of my inner muscles locked around him my calves locked tight around his trim waist keeping him trapped inside me for a moment longer before I let them slide back to his side feeling heavy, boneless and weak; completely sated. The overwhelming urge to curl against his side and fall asleep; giving into the flutters of pleasure still swirling through my belly pulls a soft sigh from my lungs.

His breath is warm against my ear, teeth punctuating his warning with a sharp sting that has my insides spasming in instant reaction despite the heavy warmth still curling through my veins. I cling to him gasping sharply while he growls in my ear. "Tell me it's Rick's again and I'll spank your ass so hard that your damn head'll spin."

I groan against his skin, snuggling closer.

"_Too late, _room's spinning_ now."_

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**:: Walking Dead ::**


	21. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **I own no part of TWD, or its characters. I am merely borrowing them with the intent to return slightly more used then I got them. It shouldn't be a problem though AMC's not using them 'til November! ; )

**Notes: **Alright peeps enjoy this and the next chapter it's the last 'fluff' I guess you'd call it before we dive back into some dark territory again in true WD style! Muhahaha

And _Yes_ it does have _Everything_ to do with the summary for this story to the reviewer who caught that! You get a cookie! ; D

Everyone knows you can't be too happy in the universe of TWD, that's just dangerous! One minute you're making mud pies having a good ole time by a riverbank and the next second BAM Walker chow!

(Don't worry I promise not to feed Fin or Daryl to Walkers…

…as long as they don't make any mud pies… : P )

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**Huge thanks to the readers and reviewers and as always to my Beta Angelinaa!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

It's probably early afternoon when I wake again. Without a watch it's difficult to tell, beyond a rough estimation.

The heat hasn't quite hit staggering yet even with the sun clearly on the rise; slanting through the window at a high enough angle to set ablaze a bright white rectangle of glaring light on the plain grey carpet; one leg of my pants lies caught in the sunlight where they fell crumpled and hastily forgotten last night.

The air is less stifling then it was yesterday, noticeably so; which makes it either early in the day still, well before noon; or the heat of summer is finally giving way to the first hints of fall. I'm personally praying for the beginning of fall. I've had enough blistering hot days under the sun.

Daryl is still asleep against me, one sleep heavy arm thrown over my side, the sheets are twisted around my legs trapping me. He stirs when I try to untangle myself from his limbs and the disheveled top-sheet his fingers tightening briefly over my arm.

" …er you going?" His mumbled question is barely audible with his face pressed into the pillow.

"Bathroom,"

He opens one eye watching me for a moment, like he's questioning whether I plan to sneak away again while he's sleeping. We stare at each other for a long moment.

"Seriously, I think I'm old enough to go to the bathroom alone, I'm also naked if you haven't noticed; where else am I gonna go?"

He shifts his body turning his head on the pillow to watch me with both eyes, "I _noticed_."

_OhGoodLord._ I blush turning away trying to ignore the way my stomach flips and even my nipples tighten under his gaze. "I'm going to the bathroom now; try to refrain from being a total caveman and stay here."

He grumbles something I don't fully catch before shifting onto his stomach and burying his face back in the pillow.

I get up from the bed and cross to the still wide open bedroom door leading to the empty hallway beyond. The bathroom is two doors down on the right; and it is my intended destination—my first one at least. I check the water when I'm through and find the faucet produces nothing; not even a gargle of sound. These pipes are long since empty; probably hooked to a neighborhood well that's run dry without the pumps.

If I moved in the right direction originally we should be close to one of the creeks that eventually feed into the giant lake about 25 miles further west...assuming I stayed on course while I was running the last two days that is…I made quite a few twisting turns laying false trails and doubling back that first day mainly; but I can't be _that_ far off.

Either way we can't stay here. We need water especially after the last few days of exertion; and last night…or this morning I guess? We should probably be rehydrating ourselves instead of jumping each other every few hours. I blame the time apart for my inability to keep my hands to myself…not that I've ever had much success keeping my hands off him before; Hell I never even tried.

I stare at myself in the mirror. The slight headache twinging over my eyebrows combined with the parched feeling in my throat tells me I'm already dangerously dehydrated. Daryl probably isn't much better—hell Daryl's probably worse since he followed me without supplies. I should have thought of that sooner.

I frown and move further down the hall since there's little else I can do in the restroom without water; getting cleaned up is a pipedream at this point. I head into the kitchen to begin the search for survival items I was too exhausted to do last night. I start by opening the pantry, than move through the cabinets and cupboards gathering the supplies I find that we can use; feeling only slightly ridiculous for doing this naked.

After about ten minutes I've got two bottles of Gatorade from the back of the pantry that were partially hidden behind a large supply of paper towel rolls—a box of stale graham crackers and a plastic bin of recycling still overflowing with bottles and jugs that never made it to the curb long ago and might be of some use, if we had water to fill them.

I gather the items on the edge of the countertop pausing to stare out the back door at the sky overhead—white puffy clouds are rolling across the horizon, no sign of rain. I should check the neighborhood yards for a pool or any other container that might be holding water still…but I can't do that naked.

I grin, entertaining that idea for a very brief moment. Wouldn't that just make Daryl's head explode?

I need clothes, and my stolen hospital scrubs are looking more than a little rough after my flight through the woods the last few days. The thin cotton material already worn nearly thread-bare when I got my hands on them weren't exactly designed for climbing trees or getting snagged on branches. Most of the material is now riddled with tiny picks and minute holes that have started to fray wider and wider with their continued abuse. It's also difficult to blend in wearing something that bright green.

I move back down the hall checking bedrooms finding the second one looking like it might hold what I need judging by the posters on the wall, and the general state of the room. I sift through the drawers of a girl who was obviously younger than me… quite licentious…by a _lot_. _Yikes_.

If my mother had ever seen me in something like this she'd have grounded me for life. Even after college. The shorts are about the right size; they're actually a size too big for me; but the length is…lacking. I frown at the cut-offs unsure if they're store bought or the left over relic of a home-made teenage rebellion. Considering most of the other clothing I'm sifting through are just as strategically ripped and holey I'm going to guess they were a specific fashion statement. Somebody had rather hip parents, or maybe just absent ones too busy working to notice what their daughter wore...

I hesitate with my hands over a pair of artfully distressed holey jeans. They would offer me more modesty but they're those detested skinny leg kind and I can only imagine the way they'd cling to me in this heat. No thanks. I pull the shorts on well aware that without panties they're short enough I might flash somebody if I'm not careful. Good thing the only person around to flash is Daryl.

I smirk a little at that thought grabbing a rather out of place looking button up shirt that's constructed of a soft gauzy cotton with a barely visible flower pattern on its faded pale blue stripes. I slip a black camisole over my head even pulled down it still leaves a wide strip of pale skin between its hem and the low riding short's waistband. I try to ignore it and slip my arms into the flowered shirt which is at least long enough to reach the top button on my stolen shorts.

I catch sight of my refection in the long mirror tacked to the wall. Its frame ringed with faded boy band stickers and photos of a young blonde with several different friends; a blonde who looks a lot like Beth—except for the streaks of pink and blue in her artfully twisted curls.

I feel a pang of sadness for her; wondering if she's still alive out there somewhere to missing this place and her old life. I frown before shaking my head, using the brush on her dresser to unbraid my hair. I smooth it back down into a wild fall of twisted waves I leave loose for the moment instead of returning it to its usual braid.

I face the mirror again and I look nothing like me; at least not the me I'm used to seeing the last few years…I look like the old me…well; if these shorts were about four inches longer…I had _underwear_ longer then these things.

I give them five minutes before this frayed disaster of a hem is crawling up my butt crack and I'm ripping them back off in disgust. I snicker. I can only hope Daryl's awake by that point so I can fully appreciate his expression. He'd probably have a heart attack right there on the spot.

I'm bent over the dresser trying to find anything else in a second drawer that I can use when I hear him clear his throat behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe nonchalantly wearing just his pants. There's an odd expression on his face…

I can't help but grin taking a pretty good guess at what's distracting him. "Daryl. You look like you're having a Dukes of Hazzard flashback."

The expression only gets more poleaxed. "Pfft, you're not old enough to know the Dukes."

I wiggle my ass at him rebelliously and grin wider when he flushes. "Wanna bet?! You forget I was raised in South Carolina. Think if you get arrested these shorts will distract the Sheriff long enough to get you to sneak out?" I bat my lashes at him.

Daryl growls eyes narrowing at that thought. "You shake your ass at Rick wearing those'n we're gonna have a problem."

I burst out laughing almost falling head first in the drawer because I forgot Rick used to be a cop, and showing Daryl this much leg does interesting things to his expression… and other parts of him.

He shakes his head at me. "Seriously Babe, You're not old enough for the Dukes, re-runs don't count."

"Says you!" I shrug dismissing him partially to continue digging through the drawer in front of me even though I've decided that the search is pretty much futile. "So it ended the year before I was born…we still watched it; how do you think Luke got his name?!" I grin despite the flash of sadness just my cousin's name brings. God I miss him, he never came back…I hope he's okay.

"That was Luke's favorite show until we were probably twelve…Hell when I was sixteen I begged Joe and Eric to find me an old beat up Charger and help me re-furbish it. My uncle found one for me too but my Mom had a cow; she thought I'd turn myself into a smear on the pavement with that much horsepower…so unfair; Eric got to keep the car." I glance back at him.

Daryl lips quirk up, "Somehow I don't think Luke was watching it for the General Lee."

He's eyeing my borrowed shorts again expression shifting dangerously if I plan to get anything done in the next hour… "Don't think I fully appreciated the shows better qualities 'til they were re-runs either…"

I snort and roll my eyes finally giving up my fruitless search through the drawers. I'd probably have better luck finding something I'd like to wear outside in a boy's room; which is sad. I climb back to my feet turning to face him still in the doorway. "And you were how old when the show ended?"

He hesitates, before answering me. "Seven, maybe Eight?" He stares at me for a moment. Both of us well aware we've never discussed age. I knew he was older than me; now I know by how much. I actually thought he was a bit older…not that it matters these days really; who cares about that shit anymore?

I don't even know how old I am… I know how old I _was_; but time doesn't mean what it used to now. The world we live in now days tends to blend into just a rough way to measure the seasons—the weather and what you need to be prepared to do to survive in the current climate and it's challenges far more important these days than birthdays or milestones.

Still now that I'm thinking about it I have to wonder am I twenty-seven…or maybe twenty-eight? God what if I'm twenty-nine? Has it been that long?

I can feel my face scrunching up and Daryl frowns at me. I know he's done the rough math too I don't want him to think I care about that. I let my confusion show staring up at him. "I have no idea how old I am." It's such a bizarre thing to think about now that I'm considering it.

He scoffs shrugging one shoulder dismissively. "Join the party, 'an dressed like that you look like jailbait." I mock glare at him while he grins…_actually_ grins at me. I wasn't sure he knew how to do that…

"What were you doing in the kitchen earlier?"

I guess he heard that, I wonder if that's what brought him out; was it the sound of me tinkering or the passing of time that made him nervous and pulled him out of bed? I don't want him to worry that I'm going to bolt on him again.

"I found power-aid earlier; we need to move on. We need water…and something other than stale graham crackers."

He lets me pass after a brief tense moment in the doorway with him eying me, making me flush and look away. I'm not certain he's not about to grab me; that I'm not about to have my butt tossed onto the double bed and these shorts yanked back off. It does feel suspiciously like being stalked when he follows me down the hallway back into the previously raided kitchen.

I throw a teasing "Quit staring at my ass," at him and nearly trip over my own feet when he tells me "Quit wiggling it," without missing a beat his tone gravely and low having a serious and instantaneous effect on my rapid pulse.

Daryl takes in the two bottles of power-aid; mine more than half finished earlier when I discovered it, trying to combat the headache starting behind my eyes before it could get worse. He picks it up and hands it back leaning against the counter opposite me spot crossing his arms and watching me sip at the warm liquid pulling a face at the tart flavor.

"Blarf, no wonder they left this stuff behind. I'd have rather found water." Even stale plastic tasting water wouldn't be so bad. I stare into the bottle's mouth with one eye wondering what made it so horrid. "This flavor is wretched and I don't understand why they chose to make it this color…it even looks disturbing."

He shrugs again leaning against the countertop arms crossed. "Wretched or not you're dehydrated. Drink it." I eye him as I take another sip, grateful whatever issue my stomach has been suffering from the last few weeks has worked itself out with some extra sleep. There's precious little to drink; the last thing we need is me puking it up in the sink. I seriously doubt it would taste any better in reverse. I swallow another mouthful still watching him. "What and you're not?"

He shrugs holding out his hand for the bottle, taking a sip when I pass it to him and pursing his lips. "Yeah, that's disgusting," He agrees pushes it back at me. "Finish it."

"Such a gentlemen. I'm not drinking that one too," I tilt my chin toward the bottle he's ignoring unopened on the countertop. "So you'd better get to drinking." He's no good to me unconscious or delirious from dehydration. I can't drag him through the woods.

"Don't sass me girl."

I pause with the bottle half-way to my lips again feeling my brow climb, because if that's the look he's going to give me when I do, the last thing I'm going to do is stop. I bat my lashes at him fully aware his gaze has left my eyes; is moving down my body heating my insides and accelerating my pulse.

"What are you gonna do, Daryl? Spank me?"

_And Holy Shit._

I almost drop the bottle I forgot I was holding under that look. My breath rushes out with the tingled flash of excitement instantly zipping through my core; racing along my veins superheating my skin and making me flush; my head suddenly feels a bit dizzy.

"Put it down." His tone is gruff and commanding it makes my breath catch in the back of my throat.

_Oh boy._

_What if I don't?_ I raise the bottle to my lips anyway taking another sip and swallowing it slowly quirking my brow in blatant challenge. Temporarily distracted and a little fascinated as I always am watching his eyes shift to that staggering swirling grey blue hue. His gaze darkening and heating watching me tease him before setting the bottle back on the countertop behind me. The movement twisting me just enough when I do that I fail to see his arm snapping out to grab me until his fingers have already ensnared my upper arm.

I gasp feeling him yank me towards him, dragging me the short distance across the kitchen. Daryl turns as I step towards him almost as if we were sparing. His other hand coming up to my waist, shifting us so he's behind me pinning me loosely between his arms his palms moving to grip the counter on either side of my hips; trapping me. And okay, now I'm facing the counter he was just leaning against… I tilt my head watching him over my shoulder wondering where exactly this is going and equally hopeful, fascinated by the dark look he shoots me, the way it shivers down my spine.

When he speaks again it's right in my ear making me shiver harder. "That's the _second time _you've brought it up; it's like your askin for it."

_Oh my god_. I lick my lips. "What if I was?" What if part of me was curious to see if he'd actually do it? Curious to see what that might be like; Daryl being just a little bit rough…based on the intensity already thrumming under my skin in reaction parts of me like that idea. _A lot_.

"Already told you girl; I aint no Damn Saint." His voice has dropped an octave; gone sinful and thick. Goosebumps break out over my skin at his words, a trembling quiver of heat slips down my spine pooling low in my belly.

His hands are sliding down my sides. Then rising pushing the thin almost see through hem of my over-shirt up over my back revealing more of my skin, taking the camisoles edge with it. Before his hands slide down over my skin dragging his calloused palms maddeningly slow over my sides until they're low enough to envelop my hips. His first two fingers pressing just over the point of my hip, his thumbs skating over my lower back; hands are nearly traversing my waist. Having him touch me like this always makes me feel oddly delicate and wickedly influenced.

I bend forward leaning further into the counter under his touch and breathe out his name on a sigh, tilting my hips back against him in silent invitation every nerve in my body leaping in counterpoint to the very male sound of Daryl's husky growl. I drop forward almost hiding my face between both my arms suddenly fighting to breathe without whimpering with the onslaught of desire spiraling inside me; driving me to squirm and gasp with overwhelming need.

This shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't be…he's barely touching me; but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't amazingly turned on right now. So wet I can feel the heat radiating against my own inner thighs growing hotter, tighter more desperate as every neuron in my brain is quickly over-ridden with the drive for one thing. And I can't help but bait him further, damn the consequences…I have a feeling I'm going to rather enjoy them.

"So you going to stand there thinking about it or do it?" I bite my lip and risk glancing over my shoulder, peeking at him from under my loose hair, leaving it loose against my back has allowed some of it to fall forward now; partially hiding me and the intense flush in my cheeks from his eyes. My breath catches seeing him watch me with that look and _oh God._

That doesn't help at all…_God no_…it just intensifies the need pulsating under my skin… makes it so much worse and if he doesn't touch me soon I'm going to lose my damn mind, claw his clothes off and make sure he knows exactly how much I need this right now…

His hands skate down over the material of my ridiculous shorts, hooking his thumbs under the hem against my thighs before brushing his palms over the back of my legs tracing just under the curve of my ass with me bent forward struggling not to actually fucking pant and moan his name when he's barely touched me and I'm still fully clothed.

I lose the battle, a desperate groan tearing out of my throat my forehead pressed to the cool counter's surface slowly gathering heat from my ragged breathe pressed against it. My eyes slip shut when his thumbs drag over my inner thighs _so close_; but not close enough... it's like torture…

He hesitates a moment too long, his hands drawn back up my skin fingers circling my hips to press against me and I think I know what the problem is…

"Daryl relax, it's not abuse; you're not hitting me if we're both playing a game." He glances at me, uncertainty and desire amplified in those gorgeous bright blue eyes.

"It's not just that, last night too, I was too rough…Don't wanna hurt you, you're so fuckin tiny." He shakes his head obviously fighting the idea. _My ever chivalrous caveman_.

"You've never hurt me before."

His mouth twists into an almost frown, but his hands don't leave my sides. "Been careful; or tried to—you're so small and I'm…" he doesn't say it, flushes fast and bright eyes darting away suddenly going absurdly shy on me all over again.

I'm quite certain and have been from the beginning, though I've never asked him outright, that I'm the only one he's ever been with _this _way.

Sometimes I wonder if that's because he used to be so closed off with everyone because of his past; That he simply never had a chance to get close enough to someone for any kind of sexual relationship to form… though people can certainly have sex without being emotionally close. I realize that, especially these days. Not Daryl though; he never struck me even from his grumpy beginning as that type of person.

He's too raw just under the surface. Letting someone get close to him, in any capacity too big a deal for such a flippant encounter.

I've also wondered if he was with someone in the past and they said something to him, or something didn't quite work out right…he's so fixated on trying not to hurt me half the time. I could see that scenario playing out for him as a young man, and wonder if that only made his insecurities that much worse. One awkward encounter and then having him avoid all other intimacy in reaction unable to handle the fallout or the rejection…

For a guy already deeply scared by almost every personal interaction he'd grown up with that would turn even the thought of human interaction into something more than horrifying. It would be a nightmare to be avoided at all cost. Finding someone he wanted to be with, and then worrying endlessly he'd hurt them not just by lapsing into the habits his family taught him; but in other ways he couldn't control because of size.

If someone told him he might hurt someone even jokingly; even if they meant it at as a compliment I could see him taking it completely out of context; the idea freaking him out so much he never touched anyone again. Part of me wants to ask him; unravel that mystery from his past. But I don't know how, and I'm not even sure he'd answer.

I can try to soothe whatever fears he still carries after all this time. It's obvious he continues to worry about it.

"Daryl, I like it when you forget to be careful. I like it when you make me forget where I am and how to breathe and sometimes I can't even remember my own name." His breath rushes out sounding a bit like a nervous laugh. He closes his mouth around the sound, stopping too soon denying even this small admission.

"When I'm begging you to fuck me—" He curses hands tightening on my hips eyes slipping shut. "—does it sound like I'm in pain?" He shakes his head slowly drawing in a deep shuddering breath.

"Fuck." His head tips back and he just breathes for a moment calming himself. I can feel his hands shaking with nervous indecision or desire; maybe a bit of both. His tremors work their way into me where his fingertips are pressed to my skin making my stomach give a nervous flip.

"Would it make you feel better if I said my safe word is Dixon?" I can't help but tease him a little; try to ease the tension radiating off him in thick waves.

Something shifts behind those eyes that my insides like recognizing instantly; something heated and liquid and dangerously hot.

"Can't be Dixon; might get confusing with you already screaming my name."

This man does nothing half-way. I groan, bite my lip feeling so much heat pouring through me I might explode right here before he's even touched me. I prop myself up on one elbow, hand on my chin shooting him my best innocent smile over my shoulder making sure I catch his eyes before I tease him.

"So my safe word should be Rick?"

The snarl and smack I get for that is instantaneous the words barely out of my mouth before I feel the sharp sting of his hand on my left butt cheek about knocking my arm out from under me with the forward jolt. I collapse against the counter top in awe over the little zing of pleasure that bolts through me at his touch. I'm laughing and gasping at the same time flooded with another wash of delicious heat hearing him growl behind me. "What I say 'bout sassing me?"

"So that's a 'no' on shouting Rick's name then?"

I squeak and gasp when Daryl's hand smacks my ass again even though I was expecting it this time. The bright sting making me jump forward and gasp again feeling his hand cupping me this time instead of drawing back; his fingers sliding around my hips tilting me back almost roughly towards him. "Keep it up and see where it gets ya."

_Trouble is I like where it's getting me…_

I groan and press my cheek to the counter feeling him rub his hard length against me even through our clothes. His name is a breathy moan that another time I might find embarrassing to hear coming from my mouth; but not right now…right now all I can think about is the heat between my legs and the sting of his hand print on my skin making my heart race and my breath quicken. "Daryl…please."

"You sure 'bout this?" I nod still pressed against the counter.

"I like you wild and out of control," Daryl groans hands tightening over my hips so hard I gasp. "Maybe I want to see how loud you can make me scream while we don't have to worry about an audience." I tell him, a little surprised at my own daring.

His hands are moving to my waist, slipping between my heated skin and clasp on my shorts. "Hell has gotten into you lately?"

I can't answer for a moment feeling the material slip down my legs to pool at my feet. I kick it away, start to reach back for him only to have my wrists captured; my palms pressed back to the edge of the countertop. I grip the laminate edge white knuckled with both hands considering his question for a moment, wondering myself, no matter how rhetorical it might have been.

I realize I honestly have no idea. I feel like I have absolutely no self-control. Maybe it's because I haven't seen him for weeks. Whatever the reason, he doesn't seem to be complaining. I grin, feeling wicked rubbing myself against the prominent bulge tenting his zipper between us deciding to answer him anyway. "_You_; and if you're not pounding inside me in the next ten seconds I'm going to go out of my fucking mind…"

"Fuck, I swear you're trying to kill me..."

"It's not a bad way to go…" He grunts in agreement but remains torturously still behind me. "Daryl, please…" my voice has gone all breathless without meaning to, the last word turning into a soft sound that I might call a whimper if it had come from anyone but me.

He curses again pressing his hands right next to mine on the countertop tilting forward to rest his forehead against my shoulder, his breath hot and distracting against my skin.

"Quit girl, you don't know what you're askin…"

_The Hell I don't._ I rock back against him gripping his wrists with my fingers; scratching my nails up his bare forearms feeling him shudder against my back in response.

"Fuck me, please—" I lean away from him have to twist halfway around so I can reach back and slide my fingers through his hair. Daryl presses his face to the back of my neck sweeping my hair aside to slide his teeth over my skin; nipping over the little knot between my shoulder blades at the base of my neck. The sensation bolting through me without warning; instant and sweet, weakening my knees. "Really, really fuck me…I'll tell you if it's too much…please…"

One hand has dropped to his belt. I groan licking my lips hearing his zipper slide.

Daryl's left hand moves to my back, pressing against my skin so I bend further into the counter gripping its edge impossibly tighter with both my hands again. A desperate sound tumbles out of my mouth which I might find embarrassing if I thought about it, and if I could give a damn about that right now.

Daryl's hands slide back over my skin, trace the contours of my ass practically thrust back at him. His left hand slips around me, dips between my thighs tracing my edges making me jump into his hand gasping. He curses, voice low and tight, breathless with just a hint of awe. "You like that don't you?"

I moan in answer eyes squeeze shut all my concentration centered on his fingers sliding over my folds.

"Guess you really want it…" _Oh god_. I'm practically clawing at the counter surface. I cry out, gasping and shuddering feeling another wash of heat between my legs when Daryl's hand slaps sharply against my ass completely unexpected; shocking the Hell out of me and making me moan. I didn't even bring up Rick's name…guess he felt like he still owed me for the last few weeks, and I'm not exactly complaining…

I gasp again; press my cheek against the counter. "How do you do that?"

He pauses for a moment uncertainty creeping into his tone with his quiet reply, "Do what?"

I glance back at him over my shoulder making sure I catch his eyes before I speak watching him flush and feeling incredibly flushed myself from head to toe. "Drive me crazy…Turn me into a total slut?"

He curses, hands tightening over my hips; tilting me forward so he can press two fingers against me from behind. I watch him swallow slowly eyes dropping to my back again, his other hand skating over my skin pressing me into the position he wants before he parts me driving into my heat with his long fingers.

I groan my whole spine convulsing around the sensation; curling up until he presses my back flat once more with his other hand; effectively pushing my hips back into his palm. He curls the two fingers buried inside me and I feel it rip through me all the way to my toes.

I gasp and shudder rolling my hips into his hand because I need him to move, give me the friction my body so desperately craves. I'm begging him again and I don't even remember opening my mouth…god I'm losing my mind. And then I really do because his fingers withdraw from my folds leaving me shaking my head in denial and rocking back trying to reach him again; I succeeding driving his fingers into me again only to have them yanked back to smack my ass one more time. I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming.

"You want me to fuck you, you gotta ask."

_Ohmy,God_. I nod so fast my vision swims; or maybe that's because I can't seem to breathe beyond a simpering gasp, my knees feel like they might give out… "God yes please! Please Daryl…Fuck!"

I collapse against the counter using its solid frame to hold me up with his fingers plunging into me again; spreading my wet heat against my thighs with every glide of his hand against my folds. I rock my hips towards him gasping and moaning begging him not to stop little slivers of electric current shooting out from my core; trembling along my thighs and through my chest. Sharp bursting sparks dancing in the dark space behind my eyelids now clamped shut trying to remember how to breathe. And all I can do is gasp for more, shuddering and shaking around his touch. Cursing when he stops just before my muscles can seize and tighten around his irresistible fingers in sweet release.

"Not yet," his hands slide down both sides of my spine, graze back up my sides skating around to slip under my shirt lifting my chest from the counter so his palms can slide over my skin his fingers rolling and pinching my already taut nipples making me clench my teeth and hiss with the sensations leaping straight from his fingers to the tingling firestorm swirling in my core.

"You wanna scream my name? I wanna feel you do it with that tight perfect pussy wrapped around my cock."

My brain just broke. It must have. I've died and gone to heaven, or maybe this is hell—this sinfully wicked slow torture climbing toward ecstasy only to have it withheld at the last moment.

"Daryl…_please_…now."

I rock back feel his fingers tighten over my skin; his other hand has left my skin; I can feel him shift closer behind me; guiding his head against my entrance; coating him with the liquid honey that's already slipped from my core with his previous touch. I groan and tense every muscle in my body tightening; locking up in anticipation. I gasp scramble briefly against the smooth counter's surface seeking a handhold feeling him part me; pressing slowly forward stretching and gliding against my innermost walls even as they tighten and clench spasming in response to his torturously slow invasion. I have to press my face against my forearm, my teeth biting into my own skin to stop the desperate sob of need working its way up my throat.

I've never burned like this before; so intense; I'm wound so tight and he's so engorged he barely fits—even Daryl reacts to it, feeling the difference. He groans pressing into me the sound deep and wicked; resonating through me where we're joined making me shiver and arch. His fingers press to my skin holding me perfectly still so he can rock his hips forward and back driving himself achingly deeper inch by fraught tight spasming inch while I claw at the counter's surface and feel my knees start to buckle.

His hands tighten over my hips lifting and shoving me further against the firm surface of the counter top so I have no choice but to lift up onto my toes; his weight driving me forward with the steady press of his hips into mine. The solid counter front presses to my thighs trapping me at the same time Daryl thrusts forward in a single quick burst burying himself all the way to his thick base. He's so deep it feels like he's in my stomach, fire pours through my veins drums in my throat with my pulse.

"Okay?" I've never heard his voice sound so tight and strained.

"Shut up and fuck me," he twitches, pulling a rush of quivering heat from my body in response so powerful my eyes tear.

And then he draws back almost leaving me completely; pauses there just at my entrance while my muscles flex and tighten before he plunges back inside so hard and fast all I see is white light. I cry out, lean all the way into the counter with my hands actually pressed to the wall so my thighs are pressed to the flat surface; barely noticing the drawer handle denting into my skin with each frenzied thrust of his hips against me. I bite my lip thrash and feel like I'm going out of my mind.

I'm going to die if he stops, or maybe die if he keeps pushing me closer to whatever the hell it is I feel building inside me. I can't even call it release its more than that; it feels like an explosion of every nerve in my body building, tightening faster and harder and I'm going to pass out because I can't breathe; just sob breathlessly begging him for more. Sparks are dancing over my vision and black and red tinging the edges of my world and my core locks around him when his palm drops to my ass one more time stinging and sending me rocketing out of control and absolutely screaming his name, and god's and a couple of 'fucks' but most definitely his name.

My knees give out, my whole body lost, no longer under my control squeezing and tightening impossibly around him thrusting so deep and fast it should hurt, but just the opposite It's never felt so god damn good.

And he's right, this is dangerous because I don't want to stop feeling like this, it's powerful and all-consuming and I'm going up in flames and spiraling down until I feel him shudder whole body going rigid behind me after his last powerful thrust. His hands locked around my hips hard enough to leave fingertip bruises against my skin and barely feel them; too lost in the sensation of heat as I feel him swell inside me and his climax fill my already tightening and spasming inner walls so tight I wonder how I'm not actually hurting _him. _

His hands leave my sides to brace against the counter near my sides, pelvis rocking almost unconsciously against me still slipping him slowly from my channel. I gasp at the loss; certain I would collapse right here if I wasn't already being held up.

"Babe?"

"Can't talk right now." My voice is too thick, hoarse from screaming muffled by the firm surface of the counter so nicely supporting me. "all…fuzzy…" I manage to get one hand off the wall now inches from my face and into the air beside me wiggling my fingers in vague demonstration.

He sounds out of breath, and mildly amused. "Can you move, we need to get you cleaned up."

_I can't talk and he wants me to move? _

"No good." I inform him gasping, "I just _died_—" I realize absentmindedly as I say it how he might take that and somehow manage to pat his arm with my hand my words slurring a bit because even my tongue doesn't want to focus right now. " 's a good death…very good death."

"Had to be, I think every Walker in a four state area heard that." I'm glad he finds this funny.

I snort. "Walkers-shmockers, 's a good thing I'm _me_."

Daryl's hands slide down my back slowly. "I fried your brain…it's like your drunk..."

High actually; too many delicious endorphins released all at once. But I don't bother to correct him out loud. Even the muscles in my thighs are trembling; and I haven't even tried standing on my own yet, without the counter's support I'd probably just fall on my butt.

"Good news is we keep this up you'll probably be pregnant by the end of the week."

I shake my head, face still pressed against the counter top. _Oh Boy._

Daryl slowly lets me go like he's afraid I might fall to the floor once his hands are no longer on me. He might be right. Guess we'll find out. I hear him move grab something off the other counter, his hand returns to the small of my back resting against my spine his other arm holding something out for me to grab…the bottle.

Ah ha! He seduced me so I'd drink the other bottle of disgusting orange.

Daryl snorts. "Babe, _you_ seduced _me._"

Okay, I guess I said that out loud.

"We should check the other houses for supplies before it gets too hot; we need to head back at some point."

I finally manage to push myself up off the counter, twisting to keep my hip and one elbow leaned against it; though I probably don't need to with Daryl hovering like he is looking downright smug.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm Fucking Fantastic." I inform him eager to prove my enthusiasm wrapping both arms around his shoulders. I push up onto still shaky legs leaning in close to him for balance and so I can whisper in his ear. His warm hands span my waist the second I press against him his lips brushing mine even before I grin wickedly against his mouth.

"Next time we do that? I want you to tie me to the _bed_."

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**:: Walking Dead ::**


	22. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of it's characters!

**Notes: Sunday's chapter a bit early! ** Okay, it was my birthday Wednesday! And I have guests in town this weekend so not much getting done! But the good news is I go to visit family on the 20th which means lots of babysitters! XD Which means lots of writing time for me! (yay!) I'm hoping to get this entire thing done by the end of July; though that might be a tad too ambitious! (we'll see!)

This chapter went un-beta'd due to my time constraints! So any mistakes are totally mine and If you find them point them out so I can flog my muse (just kidding) and punish myself by fixing it and forcing myself to eat vanilla birthday confetti oreos! (the horror!) xD

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**Chapter 21**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

It takes me at least ten minutes to unwind myself from Daryl's embrace. He's about as keen to let go of me pulling me back to his lips twice when I start to pull away. I honestly think I could stand here and kiss him for hours. But we have things to do, supplies to gather if we're ever going to make it back to the group. And I'm honestly not sure my fried synapsis could handle round two right now. My legs still feel a little shaky under me. I hope it's from endorphins and not dehydration.

"Guess we should get something useful done before it gets too hot." I'm not eager to romp around outside in the blazing heat if we can avoid it. Daryl lets me go so we can get redressed.

"I'll be right back." I tell him and head towards the bathroom to clean myself up as much as I can without running water. God I need a bath. At least the shorts don't cling to me when I pull them on after I clean myself up with a clean washcloth. I still feel gross, two days running through the woods doesn't help. I wouldn't turn down jumping in a pool or creek right now that's for damn sure

Daryl's still standing in the kitchen when I return. He's finally opened the other bottle we left sitting on the counter. I watch him downing half of it; mirroring my distaste for the flavor with his expression. I leave my previously emptied bottle on the counter moving back down the hall with Daryl following on my heels now. I gather my hair into a pony tail over the back of my head as I move preparing to deal with the rotten sun beating down on us as the day heats up.

"I should call Rick, I was supposed to check in the other night, totally forgot. I need to let him know I found you; Carol and Carl will be worried otherwise."

I didn't realize he was in contact with them, but it makes sense. Rick doesn't like anyone going out alone—I was kind of surprised Daryl wasn't with part of the group when he tracked me. I wonder how much of a fight Rick and Carol gave him on that front; or if there wasn't time after I took off, considering he followed me without any supplies that's a very real possibility. I could see Rick beating himself up over that decision after it was made. Daryl's like a brother to him.

"Yeah, you should probably let them know we'll be back in a few days." It will take us that long to walk back at least, and I don't know about Daryl; but I'm not in a real hurry to join the others. I miss them; but I kind of like having him to myself...

He holds the Walkie up to his lips watching me. "Rick? Are you there?" We're both quiet for a few moments, I wonder if maybe we might be out of range, or if the Walkie might be off on their end; though considering Daryl forgot to check in last night I doubt that very much. A few moments later there's an answer. "Yeah, We're here, you had us worried." There's a slight edge of reproach in Rick's tone, Daryl looks guilty for a moment eyes darting to me. "Sorry got distracted, I found her Rick."

There's a burst of static. "I was hoping that was the case. You want us to come pick you up?"

"We're pretty far out, don't think that's a good idea we're going to head back on foot and we'll let you know when we reach a better spot. No sense in you driving out on roads we don't know; you could get blocked in somewhere, or run into trouble."

"You sure you wanna go on foot? What if you run into Walkers?" Rick sounds uncertain, worried. He's forgotten what I can do; just like that. It's a little surreal.

"Yeah, we'll be fine it's a straight shot through the woods back to the highway." Daryl tells him. "Everything okay at home?"

"Yeah, Just ready for you guys to head back. Let me know when you get close, I'll head out with Michonne to pick you up."

I cringe a little inwardly. I threw a knife at Michonne during my escape. I missed on purpose; but still.

Daryl is watching me when I look up. I shake my head at him, dismissing his question before he can make it. "We'll call again tonight."

"You better." Rick sounds just like a parent when he says it. Daryl cuts off the Walkie to save the battery and sets it back on the nightstand.

I grab my boots and slip them on tying the laces while he slips on his sleeveless shirt and boots before picking up his bow and checking the lock.

I grab my belt, throw it on over my stolen shorts and take my machete before I start to walk back out of the room Daryl stops me with his question. "You're not taking your bow?"

I glance over my shoulder at him, finally admitting the full truth. "Why take it? I don't need it for Walkers. Besides it will be easier to carry things with both my hands free, we're coming back it should be fine here."

His lips pinch into a tight line but says nothing simply following on my heels once more. We exit through the front door, leaving it unlocked behind us, but pulled shut. I move down the driveway pausing on the street to focus for a moment before raising one hand to point. "There are Walkers in that house, that house and that house." I tick them off with my finger as I tell him.

His face twists up eyes narrowing slightly as he stares at me, like he thinks I'm pulling his leg. "You seriously know that?"

"Yup." I move toward the first house I indicated, he falls into step behind me again.

"Hell you doing?"

"I don't feel like breaking open windows all day." I cross the drive and make my way through the hip tall weeds to the front door of the first Walker inhabited house. I raise my hand to rasp my knuckles against the front door before pressing my palm against the metal surface, waiting. Daryl stands behind me watching silently, lips pursed in a tight thin line telling me he's uneasy with this scenario; is unsure exactly what I'm doing and wants to ask.

He raises his crossbow when the Walker inside rattles the door. I can hear him breathing behind me moving closer when it goes silent a moment later. I keep my palm against the door trying to focus—finding it surprisingly more difficult with his eyes on the back of my neck.

"Don't shoot me okay?" I glance at him and he scowls dropping his crossbow to his side narrowing his eyes.

"The _Hell_ would I shoot you?"

Then he hears the lock tumble in the door, and watches the knob turn jerking his bow back up and snatching my upper arm with one hand yanking me back from the entryway snarling, "Look out!"

"Daryl…relax!" I have to grab his waist to keep my balance with him jerking me backward so fast. I turn back to face the now open doorway the Walker standing calmly in the opening like he might invite us in for a chat.

Daryl's bow is up; but he hesitates, eyes darting to me when the Walker just continues to stand still instead of lurching towards us. "Shit, are you doing that?"

I nod slowly, and it takes quite a bit of concentration I'm finding even with only one of them; maybe I should have brought my bow out. "You can shoot him now." I gasp with the effort to hold him in place with Daryl standing in plain sight; even for the Walker's terrible eyesight.

The Walker falls; eye socket pierced with an arrow and I sigh in relief. Daryl's trying to divide his attention between the open doorway behind the downed Walker and me. "You look pale, are you aright?"

I nod slowly, slightly dizzy. "Yeah, it's just harder to do sometimes. Come on let's check inside." If there was a dead guy in this house there's a good chance that something usable might have been protected by its presence.

I step over the fallen body with more ease then anyone should rightly have around the dead; sometimes I worry what this world has turned us all into…but I know what Daryl would call us; Survivors.

The air in the house smells terrible; it's foul enough to damn near water my eyes. Dead guy plus stale air and summer heat equals...well, I'm sure you can guess.

I move toward the kitchen. Daryl takes a moment to check the still empty street outside before following me inside as well leaving the door open behind us. He pauses in the doorway retrieving his arrow and reloading his bow while I quickly scan the front rooms. "Empty, I'm going to work on the kitchen."

Daryl nods. "Gonna check the bedrooms, make sure they're clear." He hefts his bow while I nod asking him to keep an eye out for clothes that might fit me better. His eyes flick over my shorts as he moves down the hall. "They fit fine."

I snort moving towards the kitchen. I start with the cabinets first checking them for cans and other dry goods that might still be salvageable pleasantly surprised at finding a few items we can actually eat. I work my way down the alley style kitchen opening cabinet doors on both sides before moving to the door at the end of the room near the fridge; guessing it must be the pantry.

I pull it open to find that I guessed sorta right. It's more a long pantry combined with a laundry room. Long wire shelves taking up part of the room, the large white boxy shaped washer and dryer pressed against the other wall under a plague proclaiming that who ever lived here wasn't a fan of ironing. I can relate to that.

The shelves are full of things to peruse. I step inside checking the first shelf about eye level in the low light coming through the open door from the small window over the kitchen's sink. It's mostly canned goods, which would be heavy to take with us but useful for right now, quite a few of them still in date I note picking one up and checking the label—and even the ones that aren't are probably still good. Most canned things last far longer than the date printed on them.

I set the can back down at the same time I hear a rustling from behind me. I turn thinking its Daryl, opening my mouth to tell him we should come back with a bag for these items and gasp when boney fingers sink into my shoulders digging into my skin with a deep snarl. I jerk back in pain my own hands gripping the Walker's wrists sliding over rotted flesh trying to wrestle it's greedy fingers from my skin before it digs it's nails or what feels like exposed bone tips into my shoulder leaving me torn up and bleeding.

The broom that was leaned against the wall near the doorway behind me slides across the slick surface falling to the floor with a wooden thud that sounds like a gunshot in my head with the adrenaline racing through my veins. My back slams against the wall with a loud bang shaking the drywall so hard a few of the boxes on the nearby shelves rock and topple over.

I cry out in surprise not sure how I missed the Walker grappling with me; or why the Hell it's interested in me at all. I stop making noise knowing that will only keep his attention on me while still trying to pull out of its grasp. It snarls at me drawing air into it's dead lungs passed rotted black teeth that smell like death; it pauses, hesitating in front of me sniffing at the air in obvious confusion still not letting me go.

Then my assailant snarls again snapping his putrid teeth at my arm, and W_hat the Hell? Is it just so starved that it doesn't care?_

Then I suddenly realize I probably don't smell like _me_; I smell like Daryl. I'm about to get bitten and it's going to suck. But then it lets go of me so fast I nearly sprawl to the floor its attention drawn by the sound of Daryl slamming into the kitchen from the other room with a shout of my name about running into the counter with his hip, crossbow raised face intense with concentration.

"Get Down!"

I drop without arguing right before Daryl shoots the dead guy now stumbling toward him in the face. The Walker stumbles a moment head snapping back before crumpling backwards; and unfortunately sideways onto me his dead weight knocking me backwards into my ass on the floor. The back of my head clips the edge of the wire shelf sending cans clattering to the floor with a riotous amount of noise before rolling in all directions, scattering like frightened field mice.

I wince. "_Ow_."

Daryl pops over the broom handle wedged in the open doorway grabbing the dead guy and shoving him onto the floor on the other side of the pantry. He kneels down checking the back of my head where my fingers are feeling for a bump or blood. He pushes my hands aside continuing to inspect my skull. "You okay? Did he bite you?"

I hiss under his fingers. "I'm fine, it doesn't matter if he bit me…"

"The Hell it doesn't, just cause you can't get sick doesn't mean it wouldn't bleed like crazy; or need care."

And…he has a point. "Sorry, I'm good. No Bites. Just bumped my head is all." Though he left some welt like scratches on my skin, nothing bleeding too seriously though. I'm still not sure how I missed him; until I see the garage door wide open behind Daryl's back… He must have been out there when we came in. Maybe killed himself by running the vehicle still parked inside; barely visible in the grainy light it's driver side door flung open. It would have flooded the whole house with exhaust; killing them both.

The thought leaves me feeling sick, my stomach twisting with things I'd rather not remember.

"Can you get up?"

I nod trying to resist the urge to roll my eyes at him for being overly concerned again. "I didn't crack my skull open on a pantry shelf; it's a bump I'm fine."

Daryl helps me to my feet anyway before bending to yank his arrow back out of the dead guy's skull.

"Come on." He takes my hand like I'm liable to fall over any moment despite my protest hopping back over the fallen wooden pole still blocking the bottom foot and a half of the doorway instead of moving it. I do the same then pause, realizing what we just did. I stop twisting back around to frown down at the object still wedged in the doorway. Daryl's grip on my hand pulling him up short with me when I stop moving. I start laughing struck with an absurd realization trying to remember where I heard the expression a long time ago.

"What?" He's staring into the pantry like maybe we missed another Walker in the small space.

I glance at him shrugging. "I don't mean to alarm you, but in some cultures we just got married."

Daryl stares at me for a full minute.

"Jumping over a broom?" I explain.

He's still staring at me expression almost perfectly blank. Then his eyes narrow just slightly appraising me before his lips twist up with a slight hint of humor. "How hard did you hit your head?" he teases.

"Oh shuddup." I roll my eyes cheeks flushing pink.

"Makes 'bout as much sense as Glenn taking a ring off a Walker to give to Maggie. Shit, Guess I should have asked you first huh?"

I think I just swallowed my tongue.

Daryl takes in my expression lips twisting wickedly before tugging my hand so I follow him.

"Well, let's go. Lot's to do…Wife."


	23. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own them, which I'm in therapy trying to come to terms with... ; )

**Notes: **This is Speghetti Tuesday's update! Massive apologies! I was trying to get it out to you guys on Wednesday but I sent it to my Beta and by mutual agreement we both looked at the chapter and said "Where the Hell is the Smex?!" Then my Muse decided to sulk because she wanted to write the angsty bit from an up-and-coming chapter and I had to tell her 'No! Write this! People are waiting!' So she grumbled and whined and then gave up and agreed to rate this chapter M for darn good reason! :P

Huge thanks to the readers and reviewers, and as always to my awesome Beta for her dedication in keeping my 'Daryl' speak 'Daryl-y' and not all English-like. LOL

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**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_(Fin's POV)_

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"Daryl stop," He pauses just a few feet ahead of me, glancing over his shoulder to catch my eye while I move closer. I nod my head directing his attention back through the trees, indicating the Walker's quite a few yards off still but slowly moving across our path.

"Didn't even hear 'em." He scowls raising his bow and taking down the first one still more than 30 yards off to our right. Show off. I drop the second and a third while he reloads bringing the fourth body to the ground. If it was just me out here I might have left them; but Daryl likes to take care of them before they can find and eat anyone else. I used to do the same thing once upon a time, I got out of the habit though before I had Daryl and the others to worry about; using the Walkers for protection from people I wanted them around, the more the better.

I've been redirecting them away from home anytime I found the opportunity these last few months, killing them only when I couldn't send them away easily. Anytime we went out to hunt or scout, if I was alone I'd simply send them away from us again. It's hard to tell after a while if I'm redirecting the same ones over and over again or if it's new ones every time.

I can't help but wonder if there's some pattern to it; something I'm missing in their behavior. I'm still not sure why they wander like they do, I might never understand it. Is it really just random movement drawn by one chance sound or another or is something driving them?

I mentioned it to Daryl this morning and he just shrugged. I guess when you have to worry about them eating your face you have less time to wonder about the _why_ they're doing it.

We both retrieve our arrows and keep walking, Daryl in the lead still by silent agreement, even though I'm the one warning him of Walkers long before he sees them—I'm the one in the least amount of danger out here at least where the dead are concerned.

"We head back to the highway and Rick can pick us up there."

I stare at the ground under my boots as I follow him, put off by the knot twisting in my stomach at the idea of sitting in a vehicle with Rick for the drive back to the warehouse. I don't think he's mad at me for saving his son's life; but still the idea of being a captive audience with him even with Daryl present in the car makes me feel a little sick.

It might even be worse with Daryl there; he hasn't really laid into me about that day on the highway and he could have; I scared the hell out of him. I know that. I put him through absolute hell the last few weeks, even though I had my reasons and I think he understands them now. He's right, I should have trusted him at least enough to give him a chance before I turned tail and ran.

I swallow clearing my throat softly. "Do we have to call Rick? To pick us up, I mean."

Daryl doesn't stop walking, doesn't even glance back at me but I know he heard me. "Not if you don't want to, but you're going to have to face him sooner or later."

Yeah, I'm well aware of that fact. But still; part of me wants to put it off a little while longer, though it probably won't do anything to steady my nerves. Daryl pauses suddenly turning to look at me again expression tight matching his tone. "You're not still worried about everyone else in the group are you?"

I shrug not meeting his eyes, not stopping either planning to simply pass him and take the lead. I don't really want to talk about it; I don't know what else to say. But yes, I'm still a little worried about it. I have a feeling this knot twisting in my gut will be a permanent resident even after I join up with them again; it will take a while to feel at ease with my secret on display.

Daryl's hands on my shoulders bring me up short. "If you want to walk all the way home I'm not going to complain about the alone time, but I don't want to do it if it's just because you're still worried they might be mad at you or think your some kind of monster. You're still _you_, nothing changes that. You're the same person they've lived with all year. Maggie an' Glenn were devastated when they found out you left us. Carol cried completely at random for damn near a solid week—I didn't even know what the Hell would set her off half the time. I don't even have to tell you how upset Mika was; girl thinks you hung the moon and the stars."

"There's a lot more people then—"

"_Everyone_ was upset when you were gone. Especially when we realized just how special you are; Hell they were so upset that you didn't trust us enough to tell us—" I open my mouth to interject but Daryl silences me with a look and keeps going. "—I know you had your reasons, damn good ones. But we're family. All of us. Best damn family I ever had. We take care of each other, just like you took care of Mika, and Carl. You didn't even hesitate you just jumped in headfirst. _That's_ the kind of family this is. We look out for each other, we protect each other and we fight to stay together no matter what. And you belong in it."

"Yeah but what about Ri—"

"You don't need to worry 'bout Rick. That night you left us all he wanted to know was why you didn't bring Carl back to the warehouse. Michonne was there telling him every five seconds that the reason you weren't there was because you were busting your ass somewhere trying to keep him alive! We we're shocked as Hell alright? But there was no discussion of what went down on that highway other than them asking me how the Hell I didn't know!"

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't be sorry." He takes in my expression at his tone. "Yeah, okay be a little sorry, that hurt like hell." He admits staring down at me eyes distractingly bright blue luminescent almost against the background of green and brown. The sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead highlights an abstract patch of suntanned skin over one muscled shoulder the shape shifting and morphing with the breeze overhead drawing my attention, giving me something else to focus on so I can ignore the burning in the back of my throat.

"But I don't want you stall'n out here 'cause you think there's some lynch mob waiting for you back home; cause there aint. And you're gonna have to trust me on that." He pins me with that laser sharp gaze, the one he rarely uses and that makes it hard to even look away from.

"I trust you," I tell him simply.

"Then _trust_ me. They're our family. Don't you think for a second they don't _love_ you to, Carol? Mika…Carl, Molly…Sasha and Maggie…"

My eyes dart away to the tree line feeling suspiciously wet at the moment.

"Like I said," Daryl continues ignoring my tears. "You wanna take the long way home, guess there's no harm. Seeing as you got built-in Walker-Radar."

I try to roll my eyes at that not completely succeeding. "Yeah well we'll never get there if we don't start walking." Daryl lets go of my shoulders without another word giving me some space. He's familiar with that need as well. We walk for another twenty minutes in silence before he speaks again.

"Tell me sumthing, on that damn highway. Did you know how many of 'em were there?"

I frown. "No, I've never felt anything like that. I knew there were Walkers—and I knew it was a lot but I had no idea there were so many, it was just like…like white noise in my head. Sometimes it feels like this buzz along my skin, makes all the hair stand up on my arms."

"Like when you stand under them big power lines when it's foggy or raining—back when they used to run?"

I consider that for a moment. I'd encountered them a few times in the back woods in West Virginia hiking with Luke. "Yeah, it's a lot like that."

"If you know their coming how'd that Walker get the jump on you back in that house?"

"I was distracted, and I thought there was only one. I didn't realize there was a second guy in the garage. It's not usually a problem; they don't usually go after me…"

" 'Cept that one _did_. Could'a gotten hurt." I can hear the frown in his tone even without seeing his face.

"I made a mistake, it happens."

"Mistake coulda got you killed." His tone has turned harsh.

Yes. It's possible; I've gotten too comfortable around them.

"I'll try to be more careful, I haven't missed any of them out here yet." Course I'm being very careful with Daryl out in the open with me. I should have been more careful in that damn house. If he'd gone to the kitchen and I'd checked the bedrooms today could have ended _very_ differently.

"Could you do it again?" Maybe Daryl's thinking the same thing.

"You mean if you got bit?" The idea alone makes me shudder, my insides twist with anxiety.

"Without get'n bit? Could you do the same thing? Hell, might stop us from getting torn up in the first place…"

"You mean like a vaccine?" He nods and I frown, I've thought about it before truthfully; but if all the scientists at Winchester where Luke was couldn't figure out how to make a vaccine with the resources they had available to them I can't believe it's that simple.

I'm still shocked it worked with Carl. I shake my head. "That…might be dangerous." I finally tell him.

What if my blood and whatever is in it infects them without the bite? I could make them sick or kill them possibly; I have no idea. And I don't really feel like experimenting on people I care about; certainly not on someone I love. Dread claws at my stomach at the thought.

"Worked for Carl," he reminds me.

"Yeah, but Carl was _already_ bit; I mean I couldn't make it much worse could I? I didn't even know if it would work! Say I did infect you with my blood, what if whatever compound is in there makes you sick? What if it kills you? I couldn't live with myself…"

"Look—" Daryl frowns glancing at me. "I aint some _fancy_ scientist, most the shit we learned back at the CDC went over my head. Aint gotta be smart to know how this works. Hell we're all infected, at least the rest of us— I die, anyone dies, they turn. Difference does a damn bite make?"

Well, yeah at that point there's no other choice. I scrub my fingernails over my forearms crossing them over my middle, this conversation; the whole topic makes my skin crawl.

Daryl glances at me, noting my unease. "Sorry, didn't mean to upset you."

"No, it's okay." I frown. "I just…I don't like the idea of you or anyone else getting bit. Even in theory; what if it didn't work again?" _Would they blame me then?_

_What if Carl was a single miracle I couldn't reproduce? _

_Would they hate me if I couldn't save the next person?_

"You're doing it again."

I catch his gaze out of the corner of my eye before turning my head away under the pretense of watching where I'm placing my feet. I shrug one shoulder, not denying it, with Daryl there's no point. "It's a hard habit to break."

"Gonna be dark in a bit, there someplace you want to move towards for the night?" Daryl changes the subject while I shift the bag over my shoulders with both hands.

"There aren't any cabins or house's out this way; not unless we want to move south towards the other highway—and that's dangerous, too many Walkers. I'm too tired to deal with that." And by the time we reached anything in useable condition it would be well past dark.

He nods. "So we sleep out here tonight."

No other choice, unless we want to keep moving all night long. I got my fill of stumbling around in the dark tripping over half-defined shadows two nights ago. _No thanks._

We have enough supplies gathered from the houses we searched earlier in the day that we should be able to make a half-way secure campsite for sleeping tonight. And with the hammock in my bag we won't have to sleep on the ground. We need water though. I shift our direction a bit more, we should have hit the creek by now; it's got to be close.

Its late afternoon and my hip flexors are protesting the hours of walking and other activities by the time we find the creek. We must be further north then I originally thought because the section of creek we've located runs directly off the smaller edge of a moderate size lake.

The woods run right up to its edge, there's no bank or grassy edge of any distinction telling me we're still deep in the section of woods that was one a nature reserve. This isn't a body of water that's been tampered with by man. There's no obvious place to put in a boat; even a small one for fishing; and no sign of a road or trail even heavily overgrown beneath the trees leading too or from its edge when we circle it looking for an obvious path to take tomorrow morning.

I _know_ we're moving in the right direction from the lowering sun, and the lichen growing on the rocks and tree trunks—I'm just no longer certain exactly how high up the highway we might emerge when we reach the other side of the trees. I wasn't exactly careful two days before when I was fleeing Daryl's pursuit, more concerned with laying false trails and speed then accuracy in my exact direction. We might be farther from home then I originally thought. We can't be that far off course though since the Walkie still works.

I set my bag down and open the main compartment to sift through our ill-gotten goods pulling out the spool of heavy twine Daryl found in the Garage of one of the homes. I sit next to my bag stringing the metal spoons stolen from several kitchens one by one onto the line through the little holes at their handle ends. They clink against one another as each one drops into my lap creating an odd decorative banner. Then I tie a loop in the very end of the line winding it around a tree trunk and threading the spool through its hole so I don't have to tie a knot in the twine and risk not being able to undo it quickly tomorrow. The less we have to risk cutting the string the more we'll have for a later date. While I work Daryl clears a space for a fire clearing leaves and debris and digging down into the dirt a few feet to hide the flames.

I work my way around another tree roughly fifteen feet from the first making sure several spoons remain on the long stretch of twine now suspended almost taut between the trunks roughly four feet from the ground. Just enough slack that the spoons sit together and will clink and alert us if anything should run into the line. I repeat the process with a third tree and then a fourth, then continue around a second time setting the second strand roughly two feet high this time until I've ringed in the small stand of trees I need to suspend the hammock from.

When I pluck the line with a finger to check my work the metallic spoons rattle together with a distinct sound. _Who needs ADT when you've got Kitchen utensils?_

Next I pull the Hammock from my bag, shaking it out and securing the rope on one end around a sturdy tree a good five feet off the ground since it will sag with both our weight. If it was just me we'd sleep much higher completely out of reach and the string and spoons wouldn't be necessary. Any Walkers who might be waiting under us in the morning I could deal with before they became a problem. But I can't climb up a tree and sleep leaving Daryl on the ground, and Daryl can't climb up the tree's like I can—and even if he could I highly doubt he'd want to. He's never been a huge fan of my rock climbing tent I don't think he'd find the infinitely thinner and see through hammock any more reassuring.

"Almost done?"

I pull the last knot tight, double checking it leaning back on the rope with a steady pull and then a few sharp jerks. "Yup." Daryl's already got a fire going, it's young still just starting its way through small sticks and moss not yet eating into the dry dead half split log he's placed in its grasp.

"Could'a stayed put another night."

I frown at him sitting down a few feet away to sift through the items in my bag. "No we needed the water." The few bottles we found wouldn't last long if we'd stayed, not with us already dehydrated and needing to drink more to prevent further harm. I grab my bow and two arrows from my quiver standing back up Daryl glances up but doesn't ask.

I step carefully through the twine alarm system and move to the water trying circling carefully until I see movement against the muddy bottom. I'd kill for a net right now.

I set my bow down next to the two arrows on the bank pulling off my boots the cotton dress we found in one of the houses hangs down past the jean shorts by a good three inches offering me more cover; but I don't really want to get it wet. I pull it up and off my head tossing it over a bush.

"Hell you doin?"

"What do you think the odds are that there's alligators in there?" I ask him only half joking instead of answering before bending down to grab one of the arrows I set down previously and sliding it very carefully half under the braid knotted now against the back of my head like an oversized writing utensil. Daryl's staring at me, expression carefully blank when I glance at him grabbing the other arrow and my bow before stepping into the soft mud just past the water's edge.

It's warm at the edge; but colder with each step the deeper it gets. By the time it hits the hem on my shorts sending the tiny white frayed strings floating on its surface around each thigh like a tattered halo my toes are icy cool. I wiggle them a few times sinking a bit into the soft mud trying not to think about pinchy things like crawdads or B-movie TV horrors like mud monsters.

Hey, laugh all you want; when dead people are roaming around snacking on folks the monster from the blue lagoon makes you wonder…

I hear boots hitting the bank behind me with two distinct heavy thuds and Daryl cursing when the water hits his toes.

"You Serious? No way you shoot a fish like that." He stops just behind me, not moving as deep as I did but still enough to ripple the water; sending a rolling cloud of dirt sweeping past my legs under the water making it hard to see beneath the surface.

"Not with you stomping around behind me like Bigfoot." I point out.

"We have food."

And we do, he's right. We didn't bring a lot; cans are murder to carry with the weight. Just a few add up fast on top of everything else we needed to carry. But I needed to cool off anyway; and clean up and this is a great excuse. I nock my first arrow. "Shhh, you're messing up my Zen."

He doesn't leave, but he does stay remarkable still behind me with all the practiced ease of one used to hunting and going unnoticed by his prey.

After a few minutes the water stills, just the tiniest rings occasionally blooming around my legs when I sway slightly. The mud has settled and I can see my toes just barely visible peaking up at me looking pasty white against the dark grain. Several minutes after that the fish I saw darting away when my shadow originally moved across the surface begin swimming cautiously back towards the shallow water. My arms are starting to ache from the constant tension, but if I move now I might startle them away again sending me back to square one.

I wait until the biggest one I've seen within reach swims closer. I have to twist slightly trying to do it very slowly without moving my legs. I close one eye aiming and let the fletching go. The arrow breaks the surface losing speed but staying remarkably on course, the fish is damn fast though. I curse grabbing my arrow out of the mud.

"Alright, that would have been impressive."

"Let's see you do it then."

"Give me the bow." Daryl's hand bumps the edge of my arm palm up. I hand it over.

"An _this_ is dangerous." He informs me pulling the arrow in my hair out and wading up a few feet towards the bank to bury it point down a few inches in the mud sticking up like some forlorn leafless plant.

"Don't be a _stick in the mud_," Daryl rolls his eyes at me. "Seriously, you can't reach it over there if you need it. Every time you move you'll scare the fish." I'm staring down at the muddy bottom wiggling my toes in the loose silky earth. Watching the little rolling dark cloud fan out from around my feet to slide through the water since he's moving around I hardly need to worry I'll scare away a potential meal.

"Guess I'm gonna have to use some bait then…" I have about a split second to wonder what the Hell he means by that when we're fishing with an arrow not a reel. Then it's suddenly crystal clear. I let out a startled yelp that turns into a scream as Daryl grabs me around the waist lifts me up and chucks me about five feet into the air out over the deeper water.

I land with a splash going completely under and touching muddy bottom. Something slimy touches my foot that nearly makes me scream again even before my head breaks the clear. I pop back to the surface gasping and spitting water out of my mouth.

"You Bastard!" I shove water at him with my hand, barely splashing him from this distance. "I don't have any other clothes!"

He doesn't look contrite, not even a little. "Even better!"

_Oh, what the Hell._

I wiggle around treading water with just my legs almost bobbing completely under a few times, trying not to think about whether the creepy thing that touched my leg is seaweed or some fish with teeth…

"Catch!" I toss my shorts overhanded hitting Daryl in the chest with a wet sound, they fall when he makes no move to stop them. He stares at them floating on the water in front of him like he's trying to figure out what they are.

He's still staring down at them when I manage to hit him in the head with the camisole I had on under the dress from earlier. He pulls the offending garment off his head shaking wet dripping bangs out of his eyes glaring at me as I tread closer so my feet reach the bottom again. Though I'm not sure it's better this way since I can't see what I'm touching. I'm pretty sure we scared away all the fish; but that doesn't stop my brain from focusing on snippets of every monster movie I've ever watched involving a lake…

"If something eats me in here I'm blaming you." I warn him.

"You could always get out if you're _that_ worried about it." Daryl tells me voice completely sincere. Though…I'm not positive I'd be much safer on the bank after the next look he shoots me. _Oh boy_.

"I can't get out I'm Naked!" I remind him with mock indignation.

"Pfft, threw you in, didn't tell you to get naked."

I scoff at him watching him wring out my wet clothes tossing them over his bare shoulder like trophies. I narrow my eyes.

"Who else is gonna see?" He adds.

And okay, he has a point, but it's not even dark! Alone or not parading around in the nude is just…too _weird_. Despite my usual behavior around Daryl; especially the last two days… just hanging out like a nudist colony recruit is…_yikes_.

I can't just stay here, it is actually a little cold now that all of me is wet. More than a little; a fact that's been painfully obvious since the second my body hit the water. I rub my palms over my arms feeling the gooseflesh broken out over my skin frowning. I can always put the dress back on without the shorts…course I have to reach them.

I eye my prize behind his back a few feet up the bank still draped over the top of a bush. I move closer keeping my knees bent so just my chin is out of the water while Daryl watches me one eyebrow moving north. "You gonna come out of there or you wanna try fishing with your bare hands?"

"That's a thing too isn't it? Or it was… has some ridiculous name…" Daryl stares at me for a long moment. Clearly aware I'm stalling. "Somehow the idea of sticking my bare hand in some dark hole searching for a catfish to bite the crap out of me doesn't appeal."

My luck I'd find a gator or a snake instead.

He grins waving his hand in open invitation for me to get out of the water. "It's a dumbass way to fish, now _get out_." His eyes darken, " 'less you worried _I_ might bite…" _Challenge issued_. And _damn _if that doesn't make my insides go all weightless, desire twists and zips right through me with a ridiculous little flip.

I get out. A little surprised when Daryl doesn't grab me the second I slip by him leaving the water. Problem is I'm soaking wet, and while the thin cotton dress I found earlier is dry it won't be for long if I put it on right now. "Guess I'm drip drying." I mutter snatching it up off the bush and moving towards the fire.

Daryl grins eyes sliding over my skin as he moves past me holding the top line out of the way so I can slip more easily into camp. "My nights get'n better an' better..." He announces as he follows me into camp the spoons tinkling behind us as he lets the line drop back into place.

Daryl grabs the dress pulling it from my fingers. I let it go slowly; feel the soft material slip through my grasp. I shiver feeling it slip from my grasp gooseflesh breaking out over my skin as I let go. Another very noticeable reaction to his gaze drawing his eye. I cross my arms over my chest blushing furiously suddenly irrationally self-conscious.

"Cold?" his voice has gone all low and gravely lips twisting slightly with his teasing. He tosses my previously discarded clothes over the top line to our right with perfect aim. The twine sags with the added weight the spoons sliding together towards the new low point clinking against each other discordantly.

"Maybe. You offering to warm me up?" He moves towards me and my breath catches. Which is ridiculous—after all this time I shouldn't still feel my cheeks flush and my stomach summersault when his eyes move over me; especially after this morning.

Though maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe I can't catch my breath because he's got that same dark predatory glint is in his eyes—the one that made my stomach drop and flutter nervously and my pulse race just a few hours ago. Knowing I put it there again makes me feel powerful and oddly shy at the same time.

Daryl's hands skirt up my arms rubbing over my skin; the friction from his warm calloused palms barely holding a candle to the heat burning just under my skin, spreading deeper spiraling and twirling through my middle making me shiver at the wild contrast.

"Don't want you cold." He sounds sincere but his gaze…those luminescent steel grey and sky blue orbs pin me with a look that's sinfully wicked. He drops his hands after another moment moving away from me telling me to "Hold on." I watch him pull his now wet shirt over his head tossing it next to mine over the line before bending down to pull the thin throw blanket we took with us this morning from the pack. He lays it out near the fire pit—but not close enough to worry it'll burn. Then he grabs my hand again pulling me towards the fire telling me to sit, which throws me off a little bit because while I was a little cool with the cool lake water still beaded on my skin this isn't where I thought this night was going.

I try to ignore the little niggling flash of disappointment sliding through me. "Daryl wha—"

"Just sit down," he tells me already bending over to dig something else out of his pack. I sit shiver not from the cold but from the sudden contrast of the heat wafting over me from the nearby flames. Grateful as I wait that he had the presence of mind to set the blanket so that the smoke lifting off the pit is pulled in the opposite direction. The cool tickle of air moving over my bare back a wild contrast to the warmth soaking into my cool damp skin, flushing my cheeks and shoulders pink with the heat in a few minutes.

I watch him lean away from his pack two cans apparently what he was seeking. He takes a few moments opening them with the simple can opener we stole—much safer and faster than using a knife to perform the same act. God knows I've almost cut the shit out of myself doing that on more than one occasion.

He straightens back up fixing me with another wicked look. "Hungry?" It would be an innocent question without that look.

I swallow watching him move closer tensing slightly when he sits behind me setting the cans down next to us keeping the label suspiciously turned away from my inquisitive eyes.

I exhale stomach twisting in anticipation and nervous jitters feeling him sit down on the blanket behind me, scooting closer so his legs sit on either side of me. Daryl's arm slides around my waist pulling me closer so I can lean into his warm bare chest. I hear the metallic click of a can lid next to us.

"What are yo—" my question strangles off in a surprised breathless moan with his mouth suddenly enveloping the slope of my throat. I moan again, leaning into the feel of his mouth moving up over my neck from my collarbone to just below my ear. Teeth wore the sensitive skin making my eyes slip shut lost in the feel of him slowly devouring my skin. I gasp, startled when I feel something cold and wet touch my arm—feel it trail over my shoulder across my clavicle under Daryl's fingertips to lie in the dip where shoulder meets neck.

I open my eyes fingers reaching up to see what the hell is touching me when he stops my hand; captures my fingers with his pulling my arm down trapping it against my waist in his hold so his mouth can follow the same pattern unopposed. The warm press of his lips makes me tremble, the hot swirl of tongue following the trail previously outlined; nipping and slowly sucking quickly overheating skin briefly into his mouth releasing me again just before he's in danger of leaving permanent marks, pausing to trace invisible lines between the few freckles marking my flesh right at the edge of my scars.

He raises one hand, slowly sliding his thumb over the marks his breath sweet and hot against the back of my neck tickling down my spine with his nearness. Then he dips his mouth to my skin again lips closing over my neck sucking the intriguing object mystery object from my skin, tongue darting back out after a moment to taste the same spot while I squirm and struggle not to react especially after I feel a single cool drip sliding down my back. I shiver hard unable to stop myself feeling his tongue trace after it.

"Daryl…what…?" His fingers grip my chin, twist me back towards him my eyes slip shut in reflex the moment his lips slide over mine. His arm pulls me back lifts me up with a second arm wrapping around me while he shifts behind me—beneath me as I'm pulled into his lap. The cold material of his pants still wet from just above the knee down makes me gasp in surprise, shocked by the sudden contrast of cold wet material and the heat of his skin on mine. His tongue slips over mine twisting possessively before retreating he tastes hot and syrupy citrus sweet like… "_Oranges_?" I guess.

"Were in the pantry, haven't had 'em in years." He turns his head away from me; careful not to knock the can over retrieving another piece of fruit. This one he presses to my lips.

It's a little too soft and candy sweet on my tongue coated in some sugary sweet syrup to preserve its flavor. I lick my bottom lip tracing the sweetness left there before snatching his wrist, pulling his fingers back to my mouth while he watches me eyes dark. I take my time teasing him as much as chasing the clear drops of juice dripping down his skin. Daryl's breath picks up behind me, what sounds suspiciously like a moan held back when his mouth works its way up my neck again as I pull two fingers into my mouth twirling my tongue over his fingertips.

I twist my neck, tilting my chin sighing at the delicious friction of facial hair, just long enough to have turned softer tickling instead of scratching along my skin. He stops again arm moving to grab more fruit. "You're going to make me all sticky," I protest softly.

His tongue follows the sweet line he just drew across my skin. "Want me to quit?" I shudder with the electric currents tingling through my belly—branching out to dance along my limbs flexing my fingers over his arms and curling my toes with pleasure.

"God, no…" I gasp damn near breathless when he's scarcely touched more than my neck…

"Lie down." Nervous butterflies wing through my insides and my pulse flutters wondering what he has in mind. His voice is rough, thick with lust when it brushes my ear curls against my skin like a physical caress. His fingertips sweeping a few loose strands of my hair aside so he can nibble his way up my neck, pausing to trace the tip of his tongue over the shell of my ear while I shiver. "Trust me."

I shiver again and move off his lap, careful to avoid the open can by his side lying down on my back while he shifts beside me the firelight illuminating his eyes turning them a brilliant and roguish blue.

He leans over me, arm crossing my waist to set the open can in a new spot so he can reach it easier. I feel myself dragging my teeth over my lower lip, insides twisting with a nervous rush of desire laid out like this as silly as that is.

And then a moment later I forget to care because his mouth is back, sealing over one breast drawing pebbled hypersensitive flesh into his mouth with gentle suction. I moan fingers tangling in his hair feeling teeth scrap lightly over my skin and then his tongue flick across me in a maddening rhythmic assault that rushes straight to my center. Pleasure zips right up my spine to spiral through my chest making my muscles jump and twitch and my pulse rocket out of control humming in my veins.

He slips lower, fingertips tracing a sweet line of sticky fruit over my abdomen. I buck and twist up from the blanket groaning when his tongue dips into my navel, curling under the candied fruit he left sitting there pulling it into his mouth. He swallows it quickly before returning to taste the sweetness left flavoring my skin, circling the shallow dip tasting the drops there with a silky hot caress that has my abdomen jumping nervously, deliciously while I twist the soft blanket in my hands fighting to control my ragged breath. He draws back just enough so his exhaled breath is a torturous warm caress over my skin as he moves slowly lower; not touching now….except for the exhaled caresses of breath moving over heated skin.

I have to bite my lip to keep from gasping his name; begging him to touch me again but he doesn't…driving me completely mad. I arch under him. Eyes clenched tight, every nerve ending in my body spiraling down to a single focus; to the rush of heat in my veins and the fluttering want and desperate need pounding through my center with every heartbeat. I wait; barely breathing with the ache centered in my chest the desire to feel that sweet intense heat against my core driving me towards release too much to focus on anything else.

I twist my fingers through his hair hips thrust blindly, shamelessly towards him while a sound that might have been a whimper drags from me when his breath drifts lower; centered now in just the right spot to fix the intense need pour through my belly drowning out everything else. Intensifying further with every second I'm denied.

He's so close his next exhale slides over sensitive skin, brushing across my nerves like invisible fingertips; whisper soft and this time it's _definitely _a whimper that escapes my throat followed by a breathless plea and a quaking inhale that catches halfway down my throat when his fingertips locking over my hips. He's holding me in place while his tongue flicks out drawing over me in one single bone melting, mind-numbing swath of molten heat that melts my nerves with a wet rush of sensation a thousand times hotter than the fire already radiating from my delicate skin.

I gasp, choking back a heavenly moan the ending syllables suspiciously like his name. My hands clench over the soft velour blanket beneath my hips when he does it again. My whole body jerking; rolling towards the sensation. His breath moves lower graces one thigh; teeth marking me there while my muscle jumps beneath the unexpected assault the heat clenching in my center in response making me moan and thrash under his touch begging blatantly for more.

I feel him move, one arm reaching out to our right and I tremble, head tilted back to stare mindlessly up at the scattered stars overhead pulse racing, heart leaping in my chest knowing what he's going to do even before I feel the cool touch of sweet fruit against my skin. I stare skyward feeling him trace across my skin painting me; jumping uncontrollably under his touch. One hand grips me, tilts me drawing one leg over his shoulder, pressing my other leg out baring me while I tremble and shake under his tongue now moving back up my thigh following the sweet juicy path the fruit left in its wake.

His fingertips stop between my hips; low enough that if I were wearing panties he would be beneath them…but not low enough. God, just shy of where I ache. I groan in frustration grit my teeth denied again as his mouth moves with agonizing slowness after the fruit before moving north capturing it between his lips, licking the sticky sweet remnants from smooth flushed skin. I sigh and groan in frustration, press my hands over my eyes ready to scream.

And then finally. _Finally._ He slides lower and _There. God yes. Right There_. I arch and plead, gasping for air feeling the rough stubble marking his jawline dragging against already tingling skin as he moves against me. His tongue lathing over me, parting me while he groans against my skin, my name exhaled barely audible against my thigh and then he's diving into me, spearing me with that amazing tongue enveloping me in so much perfect fucking heat _I can't think, can't breathe…can't… SweetJesus_…

I arch, grinding into so much delicious friction I'm certain I've died and gone to heaven. Liquescent pleasure sweeps up through my belly overwhelming me, spiraling out white hot and expanding through every nerve ending from my core. It floods my senses turning them liquid gold and fuzzy. I buck and writhe under his hands now pinning me in place while his thumb replaces his tongue brushing over my folds, finding the perfect spot. _The _spot. And oh _God_.

Pleasure white hot and intense slams into me all over again. I gasp and clench, twist in his grasp watching the stars spiral and buck over our heads in a dizzying fireworks display that paints the sky a mirage of incredible colors while my vision tapers and _I. . . can't. . . Dear God_ _it's too much…_

I come to gasping and shaking from head to toe. Limbs weak and trembling with Daryl pressed tight against my side, gently smoothing back my hair from my damp forehead. I don't know how much time has passed; there's nothing but a gentle thrumming under my skin. The still fluttering remnants of release skittering just under my belly jumping in perfect time with my thundering pulse. I lick suddenly dry lips staring up at way less stars overhead then I remember being there just moments before…though I seem to remember them dancing in a way that's strictly impossible so perhaps I'm not the most reliable source at the moment.

"Did I…" I swallow shifting my gaze to his; blinking up at him blankly trying to come up with another plausible explanation because what I've arrived at is _preposterous_. "Did I just _pass out_?"

"Pretty sure…" He tone is smug, but his fingers are careful tracing over my cheek; brushing back through my hair.

"Damn." I try to slow my breathing, wait for my heart to calm its frantic beat behind my ribs drifting softly in the pleasure saturated haze still draped across every inch of skin like smooth silk. "Show off."

Daryl grins against my skin, lips parting to taste the dip of my neck once more while I turn my head sighing under the heat of his touch. "You alright?" His voice is rough, thick with unfulfilled desire; it makes my pulse jump and my body flutter. My thighs clench around the powerful rush of need my body is somehow still capable of responding with even when I'm not sure I can think straight enough to remember how to breath.

I tangle my fingers in his hair pulling his mouth to mine running my tongue along his lower lip tasting myself and sweet citrusy orange flavored syrup. I nod slowly letting my fingers drift from his hair down his neck, trace down the muscles and warm skin over his spine.

"I'm fantastic; if I pass out again just take it as the highest form of compliment…"

"Never made you do that 'fore," he's eying me closely; fingers trailing gently down the side of my cheek. "Sure you're alright?"

I breathe his name against his lips nodding before dragging his mouth down against mine. Take my time kissing him slowly at first; tasting every delicious hint of sweet nectar and fruit still lingering on his tongue before twisting, pushing him back against the blanket so I can slide my hands down his sides, and plunge my tongue deeper into his mouth. My touch becoming more incessant; more demanding and hungry. I work my hands down his bare chest, over his abdomen pulling at his belt buckle working it loose and sliding the clasp free before slipping my hand inside. I break the kiss to press my lips to the hollow of his throat while he groans—a tight desperate sound my body likes very much.

His fingers tighten against my back. The palm that only a brief moment ago was cupping the back of my head keeping my lips sealed to his shifts until his fingers are gently twisted in the ever loosening strands of my hair. His grip anchoring me to him in the growing darkness; grounding him to reality while I move over him. I slip lower tasting and licking, teasing with teeth and lips and tongue. He moans my name voice low and tight, strained; his body twitching and jumping under each caress his neck arching, head falling back to gasp my name through clenched teeth when I wrap my hand around him, slide my palm down his length in one slow exploratory glide.

I drag my other hand down his chest pausing to skim my fingertips over one nipple while he hisses in response. I don't wait for him to acclimate to the sensation, moving lower fingernails briefly sliding through the dark thin treasure trail barely visible below his navel. His abdomen twitches; the muscles jumping in reaction under my hand as I move lower. His stomach tightens to searing hot marble beneath my hands, the lines of his body the sculpture of perfection. I slide lower, my breath caressing the same skin my fingertips just transversed while he groans head falling back knowing what I'm going to do next.

His already impressive cock hardens further under my hand leaping under my palm in response to my next exhale brushing over sensitive skin. I can't fight the grin that tugs at the corners of my lips, shifting into a predatory smile against his skin that has him cursing when he lifts his head and catches sight of it. I remove my hand from his length tugging at his jeans still trapped against his hips working them down over his thighs with his help sitting up to tug them down his legs pausing patiently while he kicks them free before returning my attention to his obvious need.

He leaps in my hands, his own fingers threatening to crush my bones where his grip is locked against my shoulders, hands shaking. His breath tears from between clenched teeth sounding very much like a whimpered sob when my tongue traces over his length in a mirroring teasing slowness of his earlier assault. I repeat the action while he tenses going very still beneath me. I slide my palms down both sides of his heavy length positioning him so when I part my lips I'm breathing over him teasingly. Hearing him hiss, feeling his thighs flex and twitch beneath my body where I've straddled him pinning him down empowering.

I take him in a moment later closing my lips around his head working him in slow exaggerated strokes leading with both hands closed around his length gently squeezing before withdrawing almost completely and applying the swirl of my tongue and suction to his sensitive tip. He tastes salty and male; the perfect intoxicating combination on my tongue after the sweet fruit.

Daryl's shoulders roll off the ground he curses groaning when I repeat the motion again. His next breath a desperate inhale of my name robbing the syllables of the majority of their sound, he exhales the same way reverently like a prayer. His finger's closing painfully tight over my skin, yanking me up away from my ever present addiction. I mumble in protest but he ignores my words, and I forget them a second later when he drags me up his chest to lay over him straddling his waist so his head is posed perfectly against my slick folds.

I bite my lip every muscle in my core spasming in expectation while I use my grip on his shaft to slide his thick tip against my gathered heat torturously slow; teasing us both damn near the brink of insanity.

His fingertips encircle my hips holding me still unable to move towards him while he presses into me; parting me with burning divinely perfect torture. I thrash, back arching into empty air. Trapped in his hold, posed over him gasping helplessly, every nerve ending in my over taxed body sending out white hot sparks of bone melting pleasure in response to his touch. All if them centered around the slow heavenly burn where he's pressing into me _too_ slow, inch by mind falteringly possessive inch.

"Daryl…please," I press back towards him in desperation, fighting his grasp. I can't take it anymore, the slow burn driving me mad.

It's too much; and not enough. It's wicked torture and divine perfection all at once. His grip tightens over my hips, holding me captive despite my protest. His tight bruising grip keeping me still while he exhales my name sliding against me maddeningly before pulling away again ignoring my groan and hissed protest, he lifts me until he's barely touching me at all leaving me more desperate and empty then I felt seconds before. And that's it he must be trying to drive me insane.

I twist, lean over him palms pressed to his chest whole body trembling…empty and wanting. "Daryl, please…" I don't care that I'm begging. All I can focus on is the pounding need burning under my skin, the push to release clawing through every vein, searing along my limbs; boiling my blood.

Daryl's whole body shudder's tortured by the same intense mind-bending need. I gasp and claw at him trying futilely to bring him closer. "What are you waiting for?"

He doesn't have an answer for that other than to flip us; rolling so that I'm beneath him finally. His perfect distracting weight pressing against my skin. Daryl shifts over me fingers grasping my leg just below the knee hiking it higher over his lower back with my help, one of his hands braced next to my shoulder pinning me between his arms; like I might escape; I grasp at his shoulders fingers pressing tight against his skin not wanting to be anywhere else ever again. I struggle to catch my breath, too many sensations fluttering through over-stimulated nerves; tingling swirls of anticipation siting low tensing and quivering up my spine in distracting little electric pulses.

Little sparks break off from the heat searing my core, spiraling out through my limbs making me feel liquid and heavy. My skin flushes, pulse races in my chest and lower pushing tendrils of fire through every limb 'til I'm burning so bright I don't know how my fingertips trailing down his chest; following the fascinating line of muscle against his spine don't sear and burn—branding my mark against his skin.

The back of my fingertips trace down the hard planes of his face, follow the line of his jaw. He stares down at me eyes luminesce filled with fascinating bright washes of color and shifting shadows in the firelight. They slip closed when my thumb slides over his bottom lip tracing its edge slowly as he presses into me with antagonizing slowness once more.

I tighten my leg over his back, roll my hips towards him in blatant invitation; begging him wordlessly to move over me; in me. His name and Gods and a tangled half spoken frantic plea tumbling from my lips as he moves over me. He slides against me hot skin on skin teasing friction rushing through my nerves zipping through my chest with a thrilling zing of pleasure that flashes against my eyelids, tunneling my vision before traveling lower.

He presses forward suddenly changing his angle; seating himself fully inside me, pressed tight against me with the perfect delicious burn of fullness; I'm stretched almost to the point of pain with his embrace. I arch into him gasping, eyes clenched shut feeling him draw back in the same perfect mind-altering fashion before pressing into me again.

The burn remains; mixes with the flash of desire—pure wanton lust skittering out through my belly; spiraling tighter and tighter around his invasion with each thrust until I'm blind to any sensation but need, and lost to any other existence but his.

The world around us fades away. There's no sound but our breathing and my name whispered against the curve of my neck; no light but the reflections caste over his skin and mine in the firelight. He leans further into me, melting his skin against mine while we both burn, breathing my name against my ear, teeth dragging over one sensitive lobe making me writhe and hiss, trembling and shaking even as I'm rising up to meet each slow languid thrust he makes into the pleasure spiraling out from my core threatening to consume us both.

I can't do anything but gasp and cling to him begging him breathlessly "Don't stop—" God if he stops I think I might fall apart, break into a million pieces, split apart atom by atom at the molecular level—the intense need searing up my spine blazing like a wildfire under my skin might actually kill me if it's not sated soon.

But he doesn't stop; thank god. His pace slow and deep and perfectly matched to the rushing white noise in my head the desire ramping higher and tighter with each push of my pulse under superheated skin. I can feel it building low in my belly; his answering groan as my body tightens around him threatening to pull us both under. His movements are languid and smooth -distractingly sinful pushing me steadily towards the edge until he alters his thrust in the next few strokes robbing me of the release I'm desperate for and damn near driving me mad all over again.

His strokes change without warning becoming fast and almost harsh; his body lashing against me, driving deep enough to clench against my womb robbing me of breath before slowing again. The now luxurious rhythm, achingly tender and sweet leaving me gasping and shaking, my fingers digging into his skin fighting for control unable to anticipate what's coming next. Just when I'm sure I know his new tempo; feel my body adjust to the new pace ready to match his movements he changes again; slows torturously leaving me thrashing and cursing him as the edge slips from my grasp once more just before I was there… He leaves me writhing and panting in desperation beneath him for a few strokes before speeding up again; hips moving in short stilted jerks just barely penetrating my heat while I clench and spasm tightening helplessly around his loss before he thrust deep again so far he's got to be in the back of my throat—that must be the reason I suddenly can't seem to breath.

His movements bringing the burn back tenfold leaving me writhing and begging hands clenched mindlessly in the dirt where the blanket has twisted away from my greedy fingers and frantic movements.

His name becomes a litany; a breathless prayer floating in the darkness winding its way up to tangle over our heads in the stars. The same stars that seem to be swirling against my vision again; twirling impossibly bright and hot even when I close my eyes.

I slide my fingers through his hair, press my lips to his neck tongue flicking out tasting the salt on his skin between whispered breathless words against heated skin. I'm still breathing his name like a sacred prayer when I feel him shudder against me, throb where he's buried inside me. My arms wind their way around his back fingernails tracing down his skin following the outline of every flexing tensing fascinating muscle there before trailing back up his spine. My fingernails scratching ever so softly over his skin with the return trip drawing a hissed breath from his lips at the sensation while he bucks and shudders in response breathing harsh and fast against the crook of my neck where his face is pressed.

I wrap my arms around his neck feel my spine bow off the ground, shifting us both as every muscle in my frame tightens, shaking and trembling focused on the pleasure spiraling uncontrollably through every nerve I own. I gasp his name while he groans in answer my eyes clenched tight feeling every inch of hot skin sliding against me; branding me as his.

Daryl's lips pressed to my skin, delicate sweet words breathed barely audible on a sigh against my neck. Desire jolts down my spine at his claim making me seize, flutter impossibly tighter around him. He hisses in reaction tempo faltering; his pace quickening in an erratic rhythm that's tells me he's close to letting go, neither of us can hold out much longer.

I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, drag my teeth over sensitive skin already flushed and swollen from his kisses trying not to cry out as I lose control. I'm already tumbling over the edge, shattering around these final deep thrusts taking him all the way to the hilt. Every press of his hips buries his ever present need inside me impossibly far; his body filling me almost to the point of breaking even with my inner walls closing harder spasming and locking around each press of flesh into my spiraling heat.

I gasp and arch beneath him one last time while stars burst behind my eyes and seem to brush against my skin feeling him swell impossibly hard and tight inside me. My control and his lost against the friction of such a tight embrace. It's too much to bare, I choke with it; breath catching in the back of my throat unable to reach my lungs while my vision darkens at the edges and flashes with heat and little spots of red. I'm suddenly dragging my nails down his spine, nipping teeth over his shoulder. Daryl's reaction is instantaneous and damn near violent rolling his hips in several more frantic thrusts that even in the midst of release already, is too much. The feel of him losing control, the growl of my name pressed against my lips has me shuddering and quaking all over again fighting just to breathe. My walls tightening over him so intensely he barely fits. Daryl's desperate moan against my shoulder sweeps over my skin like a physical caress. My muscles seize his cock in a pulsing irresistible velvet fist of need robbing him of the last vestiges of his control sending us both over the edge.

I gasp, trembling and clinging to his neck lost in the sensations rocketing up my spine twirling and clenching my folds pulling him deeper, faster desperate for more. My whole body possessed; rolling with intense unstoppable wave after powerful wave while he shudders and slides against me going rigid muscles locking crying out wordlessly as it overtakes him.

I sigh against his skin pull him closer feeling the heat from his release filling me, spilling out of me when it becomes too much. Daryl's last few thrusts chase the still electric currents of pleasure pushing through my belly; keep the soft trembling waves of heat tickling along my skin, prolonging my pleasure with little flutters of spiraling lust while I close my eyes and press my face to exertion warmed skin breathing him in.

We lay like that, pressed tight skin to skin for a long time trying to slow our racing hearts, hear something past the pleasure buzzing in my ears thundering alongside my racing pulse. Slowly my muscles come back under my control, twitching and spasming with little aftershocks of pleasure while I sigh against his skin. I let my fingers trace abstract patterns and whirls into his back soothing the muscles under his skin with more pressing touches feeling him voice approval in a soft groan against my neck, his breath warm tickling over my skin followed by the press of his lips. When he pulls back from me leaning away I'm still not ready to let him go even if my legs are starting to protest our position.

Daryl moves to my side, not losing contact with my skin; pressed flush against me before reaching over me to the can we miraculously managed not to tip over with our physical activities. I watch him retrieving a slice orange from the can, his fingertips and the small wedge dripping sticky sweet juice over my skin when he raises the fruit to my lips. I feel my cheeks flush taking the morsel from his grasp, my eyes watching him raise his sticky sweet fingers to his own lips sucking first his thumb and then forefinger into his mouth. I shake my head in exasperation at him when he slaps my hand away from the can's mouth when I reach for fruit myself.

"This would go faster if you let me feed myself." I chastise.

"Hell is the fun in that? Might start doing this daily."

I'm pretty sure he's kidding. We'd never get anything done. I snort at the sudden flash of Rick and Maggie's expressions if Daryl decided to feed me by hand during meals. Dear god it might be worth it just to watch Glenn choke on his cornbread. He's looking at me when I glance up, expression curious.

"You start feeding me by hand and Rick will kick us out of public mealtimes." God knows he'd threatened to do something similar last winter when he walked into the library looking for Daryl at the wrong moment. I feel my cheeks flush with the memory. He took off grumbling about arresting us and Glenn and Maggie for lewd acts in public places. I thought Daryl was going to have a heart attack the way he flushed bright red for days anytime Rick looked at us.

Which Rick handled like anyone would expect a teasing big brother to do; going out of his way to bring it up until Daryl about lost it a week later both of them tussling around like overgrown high school boys. Rick's police training and the moves I'd already taught Daryl keeping them evenly matched for about five minutes until they both ended up on the floor with Carol yelling at them she was going to get the hose.

Daryl's lips purse into a fine line, maybe thinking the same thing. "He'll get over it." He informs me feeding me another fruit wedge. He holds another wedge out to me pulling it back at the last second voice teasing, "Aren't I supposed to feed my wife on our wedding night?"

All the air rushes out of my lungs in a fluttering sigh. Little pinpricks travel down my spine prickling against the skin of my neck, flushing my cheeks. I lick my lips slowly tasting sweet citrus tang searching for the something to say to that, my brain stumbling over the words. I wasn't completely sure he was being serious before, the idea of being Daryl's wife makes my chest feel too tight, heat blooms up my spine threatening to bring tears to my eyes. I blink furiously a few times chasing them away and drawing in a steadying breath. "I think it's supposed to be cake," I tell him finally before grabbing his wrist and pulling his fingers and the orange slice back to my lips.

He shrugs one shoulder grabbing a bite to eat himself. Daryl's lips quirking when he catches my expression. "That a problem?"

I reach for the can slapping his hand away when he moves to stop me again. I grab an orange slice raise it to his lips while he watches me, eyes dark like the ocean after a storm in the low embers of firelight. I glide the fruit over his lower lip tracing it's fullness before feeding it to him. He's takes a moment to chew the soft piece and swallow it before I push up onto my elbow, looping sticky fingers against the back of his neck and pressing my lips to his, drawing my tongue over the same sweet skin while his fingers tangle in my hair, his thumb gliding in slow soothing circles against the back of my neck making me shiver.

"I'm married to a sex god, who's complaining?" _Not this girl_.

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**:: Walking Dead ::**


	24. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Poo.

**Notes: ** Thank you to everyone following this story, reading and reviewing! :)

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**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_(Fin's POV)_

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I snuggle closer to Daryl's chest his skin warm where it's pressed to my cheek. My fingers continuing to trace over the outlined patches of sunlight decorating his skin in an ever shifting patchwork quilt of light.

"S' not so bad," he announces.

So he _is_ awake. I thought so. Considering he spent several minutes last night grumbling about falling _out_ of the hammock in the middle of the night and killing himself I'll take his quiet admission as a victory.

"Beats sleeping on the ground," I agree. Though, honestly, even I had trouble falling asleep last night—for completely different reasons of course. Even with our makeshift warning system and reaching out several times trying to check the area for Walkers I found it difficult to fall asleep. The ever pressing fear that Walkers would wander closer while we slept; or worse that I might have a nightmare in the dead of night and draw them closer with my panic getting Daryl injured or worse had me wide awake for hours after Daryl was already asleep.

I didn't get my usual brand of nightmares—thank god; thrashing around like that would have certainly dumped both our asses onto the ground…but my dreams weren't exactly peaceful—not by a long shot. I'm still dreading what might happen when we get back to the warehouse despite Daryl's reassurances.

Daryl's arm tightens around my back shifting me tighter against his side. I hike my leg higher across his thighs the loose cotton skirt of my dress tangled around my legs bunches higher with my movement—moved higher yet again with the warm palm now skating up my leg.

My fingers stop tracing patches of light across his skin to slide lower with a definite purpose to the buckle of his belt. Deft finger skills make quick work of the clasp on Daryl's jeans, sliding the silver metallic buckle free in mere moments before popping the top button loose. Meanwhile Daryl's hand is still moving over my skin, traces up and over the edge of my thigh sliding higher with no barriers to stop him. Daryl's wrist and forearm continually gathers the soft thin material as he moves; hiking it higher. His movements slowly pushing the soft floral skirt up so it's no longer offering me any modesty; not that I'm worried about that in the slightest once his palm presses to my lower back and his fingertip is tracing shiver-inducing spiraling circles up the line of my spine.

I return the favor pulling the soft well-worn sides of his jeans open forcing the zipper down with the same motion before tracing my fingertips over the firm skin newly exposed to my exploration.

I shift, sitting up and sliding the leg that was already draped over his thighs to the other side of his waist. The hammock swings gently when I move. Daryl's fingertips encircle my waist, grasping the pale blue cotton skirt gathered around my waist—pinning it against my skin keeping it out of our way and securing me to his lap so I don't tip out onto the forest floor with the continued swaying motion of our makeshift bed. I slide one hand up his length watching him react drawing in a sharp breath hissing breath. When I brush the pad of my thumb over his tip circling the satiny soft edge of skin his eyes darken and his jaw clench in response. He sucks in a ragged breath watching me and holding very still. His fingers tighten against my waist when I rise over him oriented my hips to align our positions.

He waits beneath me oddly hesitant while I move; maybe afraid to pitch us both onto the floor if he joins in. The only discernable movement for a moment his thumbs drawing tiny circles against my sides where the cotton no longer separates him from my skin. One of his hands comes up to brace my shoulder when I have to lean my arm against his chest for support my other hand occupied drawing his heavy twitching length against my folds.

My fingers dig into his shoulder pressed tight to the tensing muscle under my hand as I slowly sink down over him taking him in one breath-halting, heat clenching movement. I glide over him without resistance, loving the aching burn as he stretches me. My center tingling and seizing around his intrusion as I take him all the way past my folds; bury his pulsing length as deep as he can go.

I have to pause for a brief moment to catch my breath lost in the delicious deep burn of his presence. My eyes slip shut so I can focus on breathing through the already intense waves of desire tickling through my belly threatening the slim grip on my control. My brain already half-lost warring with the intoxicating sensations licking up my spine, the delicious burn of tightly stretched muscles locked around his pulsing girth—that somehow seems to expand even further with him buried inside me, filling me impossibly; almost to the point of pain.

I don't even know how I'm going to move without shattering instantly; tumbling right over the edge into blissful release when just him throbbing and pulsing with every heartbeat has me gasping in reaction clenching impossibly tighter and tighter in my own rhythmically fluttering dance of pleasure. It helps that my movements need to be slow; careful and controlled. I groan; teeth dragged over my lower lip fighting to hold out at least a few brief moments, when I move over him finally. My grip tightens anchoring my position while I draw myself against him with languid deep and steady strokes, burying him to the hilt with each press of my hips with damn near exaggerated slowness causing us both to groan ever mindful I don't tip too far rocking myself right over the shallow edge of our make-shift bed.

Daryl's grip tightens almost painfully against my skin, one hand sliding around my lower back hauling me down so each new glide of my hips builds a delicious friction in the perfect place.

I continue to rock my hips with the same shallow rolling motions gasping with each echoing flutter of heat tickling up my spine and spiraling low in my belly—expanding their intensity while Daryl shifts beneath me. He curls his back tilting his hips towards me so my next grinding thrust sends sparks of intense light and liquid fire through my insides, the sensations flashing through me, leaping behind my eyes damn near blinding before racing in a firestorm of need down my spine to reform in the pit of my stomach, tightening my belly with spiraling washes of need all arcing out from the pearl of nerves I'm hitting perfectly in our new position with my ever strengthening thrusts.

"Careful," Daryl reminds me, fingers cupping the back of my neck when the hammock sways to the point of almost tipping me out. He winds his arm around my back pulling me tighter against his chest so I'm pressed tight to his skin trapped flush over him. Just enough space now so my hips rise and fall against him in barely retreating thrusts. I roll my hips arching my spine to grind against him in a little circular gesture following each downward thrust drawing a tight hiss of breath from his chest and a countering convulsion from his body his heavy erection still encased to the hilt in my trembling heat swells jerking in response pulling a breathless whimper from my lips barely audible with my face pressed tight against the warm skin of his neck.

Daryl's fingers slide against my hair, lift me from his skin so our breath mingles, his soft growl of pleasure while his teeth drag over my bottom lip sends another sweet rush of pleasure sweeping down my spine, swirling and fluttering in my belly dancing and tangling with too many other sensations to name.

Daryl's lips slide over mine greedily, robbing me of what little air was left in my lungs. His kisses swallowing up the low breathless moan that works its way out of my throat as the first achingly sweet waves of release break in my center. They start low in my belly spiraling out through my veins liquefying every muscle and nerve ending along their path. Each sweet wash of intoxicating ecstasy leaves me trembling and shuddering harder than the last, spasming in an erratic helpless rhythm around his thrusts.

I break the kiss to press my face to the side of his neck once more; fighting desperately to draw air into my burning lungs while his bruising tight grip my hips increases only heightening my pleasure.

Daryl takes over my frantic movements; continuing my almost lost cadence with the aid of his hands sliding me over him, grinding into me with just the right pressure. He keeps pace while I'm lost in the pleasure skittering up my spine, drowning in the slow gentle fluttering waves crashing through me. The continued heat and friction of his movements inside me prolong each surge, ensuring every expanding ripple of bliss pushes me higher and higher.

I gasp and shudder against him while his perfect length of satin smooth skin covering impossibly hard steel throbs and twitches inside me dragging each wave of orgasm out longer then should be possible. He fills me in a persistent heavenly rhythm until my chest aches with breathlessness and my fingers tremble and my toes curl and his grip tightens unable to hold back any longer.

I cry out thrashing hard, almost spilling us onto the ground as his whole body tenses. His hips jerk roughly against me nearly tipping the hammock again his last stabbing thrust into my still trembling heat bringing about his own release with a gratified low moan of my name. Daryl's fingers dig into my skin where he's clutching tightly to my back holding me close; his hot breath tickling against the side of my neck where his lips press a series of hot open mouthed kisses causing me to shudder, clenching tighter around him.

His palms glide over the muscles of my back keeping me pressed tight to his chest while he catches his breath and the last flutters of my orgasm tickle through my belly pulsing with every answering throb of his rock hard cock still pressed tight against my womb. I sigh cheek pressed against his chest once more breathing in the scent of his skin while my fingers trace the edge of his shoulder, following the line of his collar with the pad of my forefinger waiting for my heartbeat to slow and my breathing to return to normal.

I sit up slowly, palms pressed to his chest feeling his heartbeat under my palm still pounding too fast. I clench my muscles around him making him twitch and groan fingers digging into my hips in response. I slide off of him carefully, getting one not-so-sturdy leg underneath me then the other smoothing my hopelessly rumpled cotton dress down my legs as I stand.

We need to break camp while it's still early; it won't be long before the heat of the day slows our pace even with the tree cover blocking most of the hot sun.

Daryl stands behind me, keeping his pants around his hips with one hand. I twist back towards him when he says me name let my eyes slip shut when his mouth tackles mine, his fingertips capturing my chin holding me in place, one palm braced against the small of my back pinning me to his chest when my knees wobble. I sigh against his lips when he pulls back hand still keeping me pressed flush with his skin.

"Think we should go for a swim,"

I stare up at him feeling his hand glide up my back over the dresses zipper, his hand draws back down with a soft sound and then a suspicious rush of fresh air against my spine makes me shiver. Daryl's fingertips leave my chin trailing over my collarbone to catch on the thin strap of cotton laying there, shoving it down my shoulder and off my arm with one sweeping movement. His other hand trails over my skin mirroring the same action with the second strap; sending the garment to pile around my feet without their support.

The cool brush of morning air against my bare skin instantly forgotten the moment I push up onto my toes giving me better leverage to wrap my arms around his neck so I can seal my lips to his. Daryl's arms wrap around my back lifting me up to drape my legs around his waist. The sound of his buckle clinking metal on metal as his pants slide down his legs without his grasp has me grinning against his lips.

Looks like we won't be making it far today after all.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

Hours later I'm sitting cross-legged on the blanket spread out once more beside the fire pit watching Daryl squirm across from me. He gives me a pleading look I disregard, crossing my arms firmly over my chest and shaking my head at his attempt to shirk his duty.

"You promised." I remind him. "If you don't tell him something he's going to get upset." I'm not going to tell Rick anything: Daryl lost our bet…even if the odds were completely stacked in my favor rather unfairly. He wasn't complaining at the time. And even if he hadn't lost I'd still have found a way to make sure he was the one 'phoning home' not just because I'm nervous about talking to Rick after taking Carl…I'm also interested to see what excuse he comes up with for our complete lack of progress on the home front.

Daryl raises his hand to his face, the little burst of static before he speaks asking Rick if he's there makes my stomach knot with an absurd rush of nerves.

"Yeah I'm here." Rick answers a few moments later. "You at the highway?"

I quirk my brow at him waiting for his explanation since it's now well past noon and we're still clearly at the lake, nowhere near the highway in question.

"We, uh," Daryl pauses eyeing me for a moment cheeks flushing, "…got distracted," he finishes not meeting my gaze. I can hear Rick or someone else with him snicker on the other end making me flush as well.

"After two months apart I could see that…" I swear I can hear him grinning even through the little black box. "You make it five feet today?" Rick jokes.

"Shudup." Daryl snarls back but there's no heat behind the words. "Got 'bout ten feet." He adds only half-joking and setting Rick off again laughing so riotously probably imagining our discomfort at such a public conversation that he doesn't speak for damn near a minute before responding. "Alright, alright well when you _do_ find the highway…it's this big black stretch of tar miles long…in case you forgot. You give me a call."

Daryl grumbles something that makes Rick laugh harder and tosses the walkie down onto his pack after shutting it off while I busy myself turn the sticks holding our lunch next to the heat of the flames so that it cooks evenly. The breeze shifts suddenly sending a thick hot ember laden cloud of smoke and scent of the rabbit roast into my face. I turn my head away shielding my eyes and coughing, then lurch up to my feet just as fast feeling my stomach twist ominously behind my ribs. I'm not sure I can race to the edge of camp before I get sick; no time to move farther away or hide my reaction from him.

Daryl's right behind me when I stop his crossbow in hand on full alert misunderstanding my sudden flight. Though I imagine he figures it out pretty quick.

I choke and cough repeatedly my own stomach fighting me for all it's worth while I'm bent double eyes watering with my palm pressed against the rough bark of a tree for support. The warm weight of Daryl's palm presses against my back a moment later, remains there even after I try to wave him away with my free hand. Luckily nothing comes up; I haven't had that much to eat yet today.

"You alright?"

I gasp nodding slowly, not completely sure I won't be sick with my mouth still watering like it is and my stomach twisting. "Yeah, just got a face full of smoke." I try to reassure him straightening back up timidly.

"Sure?" He doesn't look convinced, shifts his crossbow to his shoulder by the strap holding his other hand out to me like he needs to help me walk ten feet back to the blanket. I shake my head at him, moving back on my own not wanting to feed his fears. I sit down once more grabbing the water we boiled last night before going to sleep and taking a few careful sips testing my stomach's resolve.

"You getting sick?" He persists, sounding worried. Hell he looks worried. I'm reminded suddenly of a few of the horror stories they told me from back at the prison…how quickly people got sick, how most of them died. I shake my head, waving one hand before my face slowly drinking more water.

"I'm fine. I just breathed in too much smoke." _I think… I hope._ I frown at the small possibility still wriggling around against my conscious in the back of my mind. _I took a damn test. What the Hell is my stomach's problem lately? _ I can't be pregnant already, and even if I was it certainly wouldn't make me sick in two days. I'm probably just dehydrated.

Daryl's hand comes up and I watch him pull a bit of dried grass from the back of my head where it was obviously tangled up in my braid from our liaison on the bank earlier. Turns out actually doing the full deed in water, at least with Daryl's impressive size, is damn near impossible… so we got a little muddy not letting that stop us…

I raise my hand sweeping searching fingers over my head checking for anymore missed debris. "You sure you're alright?" Daryl probes again and I nod waving him back to his previous position.

"Yeah, probably a little dehydrated, low on blood sugar…" I rattle off a few more possibilities hoping to alleviate his fears.

"We eat and get out of here we can get to the highway before it gets too late, if you're getting sick I'd rather it be at home where we have medicine."

I nod it's not worth arguing when he's obviously worried over my previous display. Might as well get this over with, I guess we've both stalled long enough.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	25. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own the walking dead, after successfully completing my twelve step program I can admit that! Phew! What a relief! I wouldn't want you guys to get confused or anything! ; )

Okay, I will be traveling cross-country Sunday evening into Monday so I will not be around to update, so here ya go!

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

My stomach twists with nerves when the truck comes into view.

Daryl stands up becoming visible above the tall grass lining the otherwise deserted highway, he steps closer to the road making sure they can't miss him with their speed since they'll be searching both sides of the highway not certain exactly where we ended up when we exited the woods.

The truck slows moving towards the left lane to stop parked against the yellow line. I've already climbed to my feet, find myself chewing on my lip trying to make out the faces through the sun-reflecting windscreen in the bright light. I don't have to squint a moment later when the driver and passenger side doors open and Rick and Michonne join us on the blacktop.

"Well you're still alive," Michonne tells Daryl. She grins at us with a flash of white teeth, making me suspect it might have been her laughter we heard earlier. She circles the front of the cab mirroring Rick's approach from the driver side. There's no sword behind her back; it's probably still in the truck cab.

"Hey Girly," She turns to me, checking me over quickly. "Nice dress. Long time no see."

"Yeah…" I stare back at her not sure what else to say. Michonne and I don't speak much; not because we don't like each other. I've been hunting with her several times and I enjoy her generally silent company; it makes the times she opens up and gets chatty all the more amusing. "I'm sorry I threw a knife at your head…" I add conversationally, almost the same way I'd throw in an apology for not having the right kind of soda for a social gathering. Daryl is shaking his head next to me like he still can't believe it.

But Michonne's grin spreads wider still watching me, looking amused by that memory. "Thanks for missing." She shrugs one shoulder the dismissing movement sending a few thick locks sliding back off her shoulder. "I'll forgive you; as long as you teach me how to do that."

"Deal."

"Never know when I might need to throw a knife at someone's head; handy skill to have." One of Michonne's brows quirks north her eyes darting to Rick while her lips twist up. Rick misses her thinly veiled threat even standing next to her, which is alright since I don't think she was serious.

He hasn't said anything since he got out of the truck, his eyes locked on my face while I exchanged words with Michonne. When he steps toward me a moment later I have to physically stop myself from stepping backwards. He doesn't say anything at first just wraps his arms around my shoulders hugging me so tight it's hard to breathe.

I feel like I should pat him on the back and say '_there, there'_ or something…

I wait but still nothing comes. "Rick…you're kinda freaking me out." I tell him after what feels like a lifetime without words just standing here with the hot sun cooking the top of my head and Rick's tight embrace trapping me against his chest.

"My son…you saved his life; Thank you." Rick finally speaks the words pressed to the top of my head with his greater height and the way I've turned my face to rest my cheek against his shirt so I can breathe. "I don't even know how to tell you how grateful I am. If there's anything you ever need; _anything,_ you just ask. I don't know how else to repay you."

"You don't have to, he's family." I tell him my voice too thick, trying to get stuck in the back of my throat on the lump sitting there. Rick hugs me again so tight it's hard to breathe; which is why my breath hitches a moment later. That's my story at least.

"So are you."

_Crap. _I hide my face against Rick's shirt for a moment but the sting of tears only gets worse pressed this close to him. I push back firmly averting my blurry vision to the surrounding trees. "Stop it before you make me cry." I warn, voice wobbling more then I'd like.

_Stupid boys._

Rick lets me go completely his hands dropping to his sides and I quickly swipe at my cheeks dragging in a shaky breath.

"We should head back," Michonne breaks the silence twists her head towards the truck ignoring my tears. "Everyone's waiting to see you."

Right. I'm already crying after just Rick. Maybe we can just sneak in the back so I don't have to see everyone at once…

"Need to head through town first," Daryl tells them slinging both our bags into the truck. He must have grabbed them while I was trapped in the Rick-hug; he likes emotional outbursts as much as I do. I look to him for explanation since I wasn't aware we needed to make a pit stop. He gives nothing away with his eyes when he catches my gaze. _Color me intrigued, _I feel my brow moving north, shrug when Michonne shoots me a curious look.

"Any place in particular?" Rick asks mirroring my thoughts as we all move towards the truck. He's circling around to the driver's side of Daryl's truck while Michonne opens the back door and slides into the rear seat this time, obviously planning to let the boy's drive and navigate.

"I'll drive," Daryl tells Rick grabbing the truck's ajar door. Rick shrugs and announces 'Shotgun' even though I'm already sliding into the back seat of the tall vehicle assisted by Michonne's outstretched hand.

Damn truck is ridiculously tall, always has been.

"Tell you when we get there," Daryl answers catching my eye in the rearview mirror mysteriously before turning us around on the highway and driving back towards town.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

Rick called ahead using the Walkie sitting in the cup holder between the front seats minutes before we arrived so it looks like I won't be escaping the full welcome wagon after all.

I think I see two outlines against the top of the warehouse roof for a brief moment the second we turn into the lot; they're gone a moment later. Probably telling everyone we're back so they can ambush us. I draw in a shaky breath and Michonne grins sitting next to me for split second; probably the only one to hear my nervous reaction at returning home. She opens her door the second the truck is stopped and waits for me to climb out with a wave of her hand, which is just as well since I was thinking about hiding in the backseat and maybe just telling Daryl to keep driving.

He's already out of the truck though, Rick too.

I slide off the seat and let myself fall the last eight inches or so to the hard pavement glad I'm wearing the ridiculous jean shorts under my dress when the skirt rides up my thighs and has to be shaken back down.

"Should tell your husband to add step up bars to this thing," She winks at me shutting the door. I find myself fingering the tiny silver ring on my left hand, twirling the delicate smooth band before catching myself. "It's pretty, he's got good taste." She adds catching my new nervous habit.

I nod my head still speechless at the side trip we just took, my eyes glancing at the matching silver band on Daryl's hand feeling my stomach flip and my breath catch in my chest when he catches my eye. I'm still floored that he wanted to look for them right in front of Rick and Michonne; not that they seemed bothered in the slightest by our thirty minute wedding band expedition. Michonne especially seemed to have a grand time checking out what was left of the bracelet and necklace section judging by the bright smoky amber colored pendent now adorning her throat the trip wasn't a waste in her book either. Still, we could have snuck out in a few days and went ourselves…not that I think it would take Carol longer than ten seconds in the same room with us to notice the second we got back…She's far more observant then most people realize.

Daryl catches my eye pulling our bags from the back of the truck. His lips twist up as he sets the bags against the lot pausing to close the tailgate. There's a flurry of activity coming across the pavement moments later as he's picking both bags up with his crossbow and my bow moving closer.

"Fin!" Mika just came around the corner of the warehouse yards ahead of Carol and even Carl; who's apparently too cool to run and greet me. I move off to the side so that the little blonde that's almost my height now can tackle me with a hug without threatening to knock over anyone else.

"I told you, you could come back! I was right!"

"Yes," I hug her tighter. "You were right,"

"Welcome back!" Carol hugs me right over top of Mika the little blonde trapped between us not that she seems to care; she's almost vibrating with joy. When Carol lets me go she starts to drag Mika off of my waist. Her quiet "Let her say hello to everyone else," finally pulling Mika away with a pout.

I'm immediately wrapped in another tight hug without so much as a second to catch my breath. "I'm so glad your back! I was so worried!" Maggie's voice is thick with tears threatening to make me cry when I barely managed to keep it together with Carol's brief embrace.

"You feeling okay?" I ask pulling away from her enough to take in her still tiny frame despite all the weeks passing in my absence. She's got to be nearing the halfway point now. She nods Glenn standing just behind her grins at me. "Welcome back."

Sasha hugs me with Molly hanging just behind her hip peeking at me with her shy smile and then Tyreese hugs me; which is a little like being strangled by a bear. Dude is huge. Carl just winks at me his neck no longer covered in gauze, just the faint silvery white outline of a thick scar marking his skin from jawline to collar.

"Okay, no more hugging!" I announce waving my hands in front of me. The movement obviously catching Maggie and Carol's eyes at the same exact second. The both speak in unison, voices excited and loud enough to draw everyone else's attention making me blush furiously.

"Hold on!"

"What is this?!"

_Crap._

Maggie's grin is fierce as she grabs my left hand. "You take a weekend trip to Vegas?" She jokes inspecting the inlayed silver band around my second finger. Carol is already turning on Daryl slapping his shoulder. "You get married and you don't even tell me?"

"We just got back!" He tells her while she slaps him again a few more times, "That's _no_ excuse!"

Maggie's grin turns mischievous when she looks up at me. _Uh oh_. "Was it a shotgun wedding?" she asks winking at me.

I can almost hear Daryl's heart attack a few feet from me he damn near trips over his own feet still trying to avoid Carol's half-serious assault at our oversight. He goes very still at that comment even after Carol pops him with her hand again; he doesn't even flinch. He's too busy shooting Maggie a narrowed look before shaking his head at Carol who's staring him down on brow raised.

"No!" I tell her feeling my cheeks heat because suddenly _everyone_ is listening a little to intently... and just_ ugh_.

"Not for lack of trying," I swear Daryl just mumbled, but I must be losing my mind because that _can't_ be right.

"Why would you bring shotguns to a wedding?" Mika asks face pinched in confusion staring up at me while I try to think of an appropriate response to that. Rick is laughing beside me about to hack up a lung at my expression, My eyes dart to Maggie who's absolutely no help at all a little red faced as well while Carol smacks Daryl again shaking her head.

"Uh, because you should take guns with you everywhere." I tell her Maggie is nodding right along with me neither of us eager to explain _that concept._

"Don't worry about it Mika," Carol grabs me again hugging me tight enough to squeeze the air out of my lungs. "I'm so happy for you!" She pulls back enough to watch my face adds quieter so only I can hear. "You sure it's not a shotgun wedding?"

I roll my eyes. "Carol! No!"

"Oh well, I'm still winning the bet," she announces winking at me and letting me go.

_Bet? What bet? _

I scowl at her but she just smiles sweetly hugging Daryl despite his long-suffering expression. He gets away much faster than I've managed to backing away from Carol to stand next to me again. "We gonna go inside or stand around all day?" He barks clearly over the emotional display and ready to do something else; anything else.

Mika hugs me again slipping past Daryl's blocking arm to wrap her hands around my waist. She leans away from me face lighting up a moment later. "I have something to show you!" She grabs my hand and starts leading me away from Daryl and the others towards the front of the warehouse fences. I glance back at Rick wondering if they've re-fortified them in some way but he only shrugs at me before following us Daryl right on my heels since we started walking.

"Mika, where are you going?" Carol's voice carries over the lot everyone is following us now.

"It's a surprise! I couldn't tell anyone until you came back." We're stopped about five feet in front of the fences ringing the warehouse's front. The Walker's on the other side snarling and digging their fingers through the chain link openings at our presence…or everyone else's presence I guess; though I doubt they can smell me right now to tell the difference with the wind moving like it is.

"Mika wha—"

"Shhh, give me a second, it takes a minute." I glance down at her when she lets go of my hand staring eyes narrowed at the fence, a sinking feeling starts in the pit of my stomach warring with the anxiety twisting through my gut threatening to make me sick all over again.

"Mika, Honey…" Carol steps closer than pauses when three of the closest Walkers behind the fence go silent. They stop pawing at the barrier between us dropping their hands to rest docile against their sides.

Mika spins back to face me grin triumphant, "HA!"

The second she turns away they start clawing at the fence again. She frowns glancing at them lips pursed. "Well, it doesn't last for very long but I'm getting better." She beams at me again while I try to remember how to breathe.

"How…?" Carol is kneeling down beside us staring at Mika. "How did you do that Mika?"

"You got stabbed…" It suddenly hits me. Little pin pricks of panic sliding down my spine.

Mika is watching me looking pleased, she nods adding "…after Lizzie stabbed you."

My blood was already on the knife. Shit, is that really all it takes? A wave of dizziness sweeps through me, I'm suddenly light headed.

I can't breathe. _Oh my god._ I don't know when I started backing away, didn't even realize I was moving until I feel Daryl's hand press against my back stopping my retreat after a few feet. I have to bend forward; try to stop the spinning in my head, the buzzing noise pressing against my ears, filling my head like thick cotton.

"What's wrong?!" Mika looks stricken face falling farther as I fail to react in whatever way she imagined. "Did I do it wrong?"

I'm shaking my head. I can't speak. Can't explain why I'm shaking so hard. Too many thoughts spinning inside my head. God what have I done? The raging headache I had after what I did on the highway, the nose bleed the following day…the way I draw them when I'm upset endangering everyone who's normal around me…and now I've done the same thing to a child… Someone kneels down by my feet looking up at me. _How can he look so calm?_ His fingers grip my arm, shaking me slightly; almost pulling my wobbly balance too far off center with my spinning head.

"You're not infecting people. _Breathe_ Finny." He glances up turning slightly hand held up placating towards my first unintended victim. "Calm down Mika it's okay."

"Can…can you…?" I can't even get the words out they jam up in the back of my throat.

He shakes his head. "Nope, I've already tried."

_Jesus. How can he sound disappointed?_ "How did you…" My voice strangles in my throat, caught on the swelling lump making it hard to breath. I swallow but it doesn't help.

"Mika told me when I got back. She's been trying to repeat what you did that night with Lizzie for months," _The first night I revealed my secret trying to save her life_. "But it doesn't work for me…although she's been like this longer," He shrugs like maybe it's something he'll develop. Like that's a _good_ thing—I don't even know what it is or how I do it. It could be dangerous; and now Mika has it too…

"Why are you upset? I never have to be afraid again," Mika's voice is quiet, trembles. "I can't be like Lizzie, or Carol or Daryl; I tried…but now I don't have to be." She moves closer to me just stares at me with those big brown eyes so full of innocence. Even after the Prison, and the farm and Lizzie, she has no concept of just how wicked people can truly be. "It's okay Fin, you made me better: like you. I want to keep people safe, just like you do."

I've been ostracized and hunted down by everyone I've met since this all started; until now. I've been held captive and forced to keep others safe under threat of being tortured and raped… She's only eleven years old. If something happens to me; to Daryl and Rick and Carol and she's left alone… a shudder rolls through me burns like acid in the back of my throat. Mika thinks this ability is some kind of gift, but it still feels like a curse. I made her different completely on accident, just by exposing her to my blood…it doesn't make sense it took four transfusions to fix Carl but there was nowhere near that amount of blood on the knife Lizzie used on both of us.

Daryl's gotten my blood on him; and Carol too, does that mean they're infected as well?

"Maybe only girls get it," Carl continues narrowing his eyes at me drawing my attention forgetting for a moment he can't hear what I'm thinking; has no idea the line my thoughts have taken. "Like _cooties_." He adds.

Incredulous exasperation rolls through my chest. Only Carl could joke about something so damn serious. "Cooties aren't real dumdum"

"You would say that," Carl tells me sneering comically, "You're already infected."

"You're so _stupid_."

Carl grins shrugging. "Maybe; but you're breathing again." I start laughing, I can't help it, he's so like Tobin sometimes I almost forget…

"You're a sneaky ass Carl."

"Yup, and next time I want Jedi Mind powers too."

"Yeah, I'll focus on that next time I'm trying to save your life." The sarcasm rolls off my tongue doing nothing to remove the grin from his face.

"Damn Straight, Priorities." Carl tells me then he winks. "I've always wanted to be Batman." I straightening up shaking my head down at him until he stands up and I have to tilt my head back to see his face.

Everyone else is still standing with us; no one has started screaming or running. Carol is bending over to hug Mika telling her how special she is. They don't even look upset. Daryl's hand is still pressed firmly to the small of my back, helping my stomach settle, there's still knots twisted there, but I no longer feel like I might vomit.

It's going to be okay. We're going to be okay.

Carl is still staring at me waiting for something more. "Batman huh? That's too bad, I'm Batman." I remind him, "You're Robin."

Carl just grins.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	26. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine. Bummer!

**Notes: ** Thank you guys for the reviews and favorites! You're amazing! :)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

_(Daryl's POV)_

* * *

"Dude your wife is pretty badass." Glenn's grinning at him. "Maybe we should form a club."

"Yeah the 'don't piss off your wives if you wanna live' club." a soft southern accent says.

Glenn curses and turns but Maggie just smirks at him and keeps walking to join Carol, Seraphim and Mika in the grass beside the lot where Mika is using her bow next to Carl.

Glenn jerks back around eyes wide. "What and you couldn't tell me she was standing right there?!"

"Hell you looking at me for, she's _your_ wife."

"Yeah, but she's a little—" Glenn whispers the last word looking freaked, _"hormonal."_

Rick claps him on the shoulder grinning. "Not afraid of your pregnant badass wife are you Glenn?"

The other man pulls a face looking uncertain for a moment. "Not exactly…"

"Then what's the problem?" Rick leans against the car hood watching obviously more focused on watching his son laughing and talking to Mika now.

"I dunno, this morning she's all over the place; one minute she's screaming at Beth for something; and then next thing I know she…" Glenn pauses looking flustered. "She wants to have sex…again! She's all over me; I _need_ sleep!"

"Your right that's weird." Rick is laughing, "Welcome to the second trimester." Glenn only looks more confused.

"Hell was she fighting with Beth 'bout?" He can't help but notice the petite is blonde is one of the few people not outside today enjoying the cooler weather…and it can't be because of Judith; Michonne has her he notes as she approaches them. Rick grins seeing them both.

"We're gonna have to do something with that back door or the roof exit; this little lady's getting a lil big to carry down a ladder." Michonne informs them. Rick nods glancing at Daryl.

"I thought about that too, Especially with Maggie expecting now. We'll bring it up tonight, try to figure out our options."

Michonne lets the kicking little girl down and she immediately shoots across the lot on her tiny little legs; knees pulled up comically high with each step over the pavement enthusiastically shrieking displaying the universal joy of all toddlers set loose on an unsuspecting world.

"Great, now we'll never catch her…" Rick starts laughing and chasing after Judith even though Michonne is barely a foot behind the little girl's tottering form both of them already halfway across the lot to the rest of the group; her hands posed ready to snatch Judith up the second she looks unsteady or gets into trouble.

She reaches the other side of the lot without incident and Seraphim scoops her up before she can tumble over the curb and into the grass. Daryl chest tightens watching her dancing the shrieking toddler on one hip spinning the tiny girl around while Mika makes silly faces at her before handing her back to Rick when she reaches both arms excitedly for her Daddy.

"Anyone check on Beth this morning?" He frowns turning away before she can look up and catch his expression.

"Uh," Glenn looks guilty suddenly coming to the same realization. "No, I can have Maggie…"

"Nah, you really wanna send your hormonal wife to talk to her lil sister after they already had a fight? I'll go find her." He's been meaning to see what the Hell has been going on with her for weeks. If she's fight'n with Maggie it can't _just_ be him. Might as well suss this shit out now while everyone is elsewhere. He feels like he owes the young woman that much respect.

"Be back in a bit," he offers moving back toward the warehouse ladder. Glenn nods and moves off towards the rest of the group without another word.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

It's oddly quiet in the warehouse with everyone outside. The voluminous space beneath the rafters they call home generally filled with diverse amalgam of fresh sounds and echoes in the cavernous space around the shelves. The vast majority of the warehouse's interior now lies empty after the efforts over the past winter of the entire group to expand the living space Seraphim originally constructed before their arrival. It took them several months of painstaking work to breakdown and reassemble the rest of the warehouse's multi-tiered shelves into an expansive open sided apartment that now fills one corner of the warehouse in a large square with a courtyard of sorts in the center directly beneath a bank of skylights. The light now filtering from above keeps the four lower levels better lit throughout the day. Even the lowest level thanks to the open space below is now brighter than many of the places they had to walk on a regular basis in the prison. The food stored around the edges no longer hidden in shadows under three solid ply-board floors.

Daryl pauses at the edge of the top floor, hands pressed to the wooden railing they added to keep Judith and young Molly and Mika safe from the steep edge. It suddenly occurs to him that without Judith's loud babble or a cooking pot he's not sure where to look for her.

"Beth?" He calls down to the lower levels waiting. No answer. Daryl frowns; if she's in here she should be able to hear him clearly without the noise of the others. Which means she doesn't want to be found, or she doesn't want to be found by him. He considers leaving again, letting Maggie deal with it later; but something stops him. A gnawing knot of guilt in the pit of his stomach he can't shake off.

He leaves the railing moving around the top of the square quickly eliminating the little plastic sheds around the edge that serve as separate bedrooms on this floor. He moves to the second level, checking the few here as well; though most of them are on the top floor Sasha likes to sleep on the second level Molly too; he suspects the little girl has a fear of heights.

Daryl finally locates her hidden away in a pink beanbag chair in a corner of Seraphim's library room. A book clasped in her hands quietly ignoring him.

"Beth," He moves closer not wanting to shout across the room at her incase the others come back inside.

"So you found me huh?" Her voice is dull, monotone and dejected. She doesn't look up from the green spine'd book in her lap. The pen in her hand pauses it's scratching. He recognizes it from their time together after the prison. Her diary. Maybe that's why she's down here. He wonders briefly if he made a mistake bothering her and should leave her alone with her thoughts. But something about her hollow expression when she lifts her eyes to him makes him pause. "You wanna explain what the Hell is going on with you?"

"What, like you care?" Beth sneers snapping the small book shut with one hand.

"Hell is your problem girl?"

"So what, now you're suddenly interested in me?" Beth snaps at him. "Bullshit. You won't give me the time of day with her around. You're just like everybody else!"

"Hell are you talkin'bout?" He's rarely seen the little blonde so worked up.

"Everyone wants to pretend life's so perfect here, but it's not! It's just another lie! And I'm sick of it!" She's on her feet, slamming the book down so it's cover slaps flat against the floor with enough force to make a resounding thump; louder then he'd have given its tiny size credit for.

Daryl feels his lips pinch into a tight line, jaw clenching for a moment trying to work out what exactly she's talking about. "Is this about Seraph—"

"It's about Maggie, and Glenn! And Rick! And You! And Carol, and Judith…" She cuts him off her eyes overly bright, rimmed suddenly with unshed tears as she rattles off names voice waivering. She stops pursing her lips gaze darting away from his face to stare out over the warehouse through the open fence holes. "Ya'll are so damn busy with pretending life's a fucking fairytale. Everybody gets their happy ending expect for me."

He waits, unsure what to say watching her swipe furiously at fresh spilled tears tracking down her cheeks flushed with spots of pink after her outburst. Her pale blue eyes almost grey in the filtered light. He's still not sure what to say when she continues finally spilling apparently months of pent up frustration and hostility on him.

"Maggie barely notices me anymore, she's said two words to me all week! And this morning she tells me I'm selfish! That I'm some kind of spoiled brat when I cook, and I clean and I slave day and night over a baby that's isn't even mine!" She drags in a shuddering raspy breath, shaking with too many pent up emotions to contain her trembles. "And now she's pregnant and guess who's gonna be taking care of that baby too?!" Beth snaps.

"Your sister aint—"

"My sister struts around her like she's Xena Fucking Warrior Princess! Her and Michonne, and Fin!" She practically spits the last name, snarling. "And what do I get? Laundry duty! Cooking! I get all the dirt and none of the glory!" She sneers at him glaring through red tinged eyes past the shine of tears. "I certainly don't get the man."

He frowns trying to understand the look she's giving him, guilt curling through his chest. "So this is about Zach? Look Beth I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken him on that run—"

He stops when she bursts out laughing. The sound is bitter, and cold: dead. "Zach." She shakes her head looking appalled, when she turns back to him she sneers. "I was only with Zach because the person I wanted didn't see me at all. Treated me like a little girl. I'm not a little girl Daryl."

She steps towards him hands clenched into fists against her sides. "I didn't get it. When we were at the farm you didn't even look at me; but then after we were at the prison, you started talking to me. You'd come by and check on me; hold Judith and ask if there was anything we needed before you went on runs. You said more to me then my big sister off chasing her boyfriend. My own Daddy was too busy playing farmer with Rick to remember my birthday was that spring he didn't remember til that summer that I was Eighteen, and then he was too busy playing Doctor…getting himself killed. He worried about everyone but me…but you acted like you cared." Her tone is wounded; it contrasts starkly with the anger still etched in the tight lines of her face, the hard set of her spine. "I thought you cared about _me_."

He's shaking his head; trying to make her understand, somehow unravel this mess. "I do care Beth, just…not like that." He never meant to give her that impression. He was just trying to be nice; she almost lost her father had already lost her mother and step-brother; Hell he'd realized later during the clean-up outside the barn that it was his shotgun at the farm that took her step-brother down.

She was barely seventeen in a nightmare world. Beth was so frail looking and delicate he wasn't sure when they lost the Farm she'd make it through the winter. She reminded him so much of a frightened child; weighed less than a sparrow, shook like a leaf anytime Walker's came near…she reminded him of Sophia… and then after Lori died; seeing Judith.

Daryl thought the baby clutched in Maggie's arms the first time he's seen her was dead—all covered in blood, skin ghostly pale against Maggie's blood splattered shirt clutched desperately in her arms. When he'd realized she was alive, so fragile and tiny; like Beth. That tiny baby girl already without a momma was the most heart wrenching innocent thing he'd ever laid eyes on. He was just trying to make sure that Judith and Beth were okay…he never meant for her to take it like this. "It was never like that…"

"I know," Beth tells him, looking sad. "I thought after the prison fell apart and we were on our own that first week in the woods…I thought maybe you were starting to see me—that things would finally change. You were showing me how to track, how to use your crossbow. Finally someone was treating me like a person; not just a thing! But then _she_ showed up. Fucking Prom Queen of the Apocalypse!"

"Beth—" Daryl warns but she's not listening, smacks her hands against his chest forcing him to take a step back.

"Why did she have to be so God Damn Perfect? She can track, and fight, and hunt! She's everything that I'm not…and then Luke and Chris showed up and I saw how much she hurt you. No! You can't deny it Daryl!" She points her finger at him cutting him off when he opens his mouth to speak. "I saw what she did to you! It's wasn't enough that she'd already stolen your attention she had to have Chris's too! And even after that, after she hurt you; you still went back to her! And worse she made the one person who'd said more than two words to me that didn't involve Judith or Laundry in months leave! You certainly didn't notice me anymore." She sniffs.

"Chris left because he didn't belong here!"

She shakes her head, blonde ponytail swaying behind her. "Chris told me Fin was lying to you; to _all_ of us; and he was going to prove it! And that after he did she would leave for good!"

"Chris was trying to get back at Fin because she rejected him! He was trying to get you and Carl killed!"

"Bullshit! Chris wouldn't do that! He promised me I wasn't in any danger! And he told me what happened that night; so don't feed me that crock of shit! She picked a fight with him after she realized he liked me; because he asked me to spare with him and she was jealous, because she realized he wanted me! Chris told me all about how she attacked him, she was furious because we were already together and he didn't want her."

A twisting knot forms in the pit of his stomach, tightens as her words form a picture in his head that makes bile rise in the back of his throat. "Oh God, Beth tell me you didn't…"

"What do you care? You going to pretend you give a shit now? She gets to fuck anyone she wants—"

His hands close around her arms stopping her pacing, it's the only thing he can think to do so he doesn't punch the wall; risk breaking his hand. "Beth, did he hurt you?"

She laughs again jerking her arms from his grasp and stepping back out of his reach the sound morphing into a snarl of frustration. "I'm not a little girl! I'm almost nineteen years old! And considering all the shit we've lived through I feel thirty, but everyone here treats me like I'm twelve!" She turns taking in whatever expression is on his face, he's not sure what she sees so many emotions are tumbling around in his chest. "I have feelings and needs and I'm sick as shit with people pissing all over them!"

"Beth, please tell me you didn't sleep with Chris…" He's very certain it's horror clawing through his gut. He should have kept a closer eye on the bastard; after what he did to Seraphim; the way he was always looking at her, he should have known to keep an eye out for Beth…he failed to keep her safe when the danger was right under his nose…

"What are you so upset about Daryl? That I had sex? That it was Chris? Or that it wasn't _you_? You're just _jealous_ that someone else wanted me—"

"Jealous?! Fuck girl! What the Hell are you Thinking!? Chris was a fucking Monster! He lied to you, to Luke and Fin; He didn't give a Shi—"

"You don't get it!" She screams. "I waited for years just for you to notice me! I was there for you the whole time, I thought you cared—"

"I do care…"

"No! Liar!" She snarls, voice breaking with a sob, "And then she leaves again and betrayed us all, and I thought you'd finally see that she wasn't good for you but no she comes back and she's…she's so _Fucking Perfect_ that not even the monsters can touch her! She was supposed to leave and never come back! You would have forgotten about her, realized how much she hurt you! But no, now she's _Perfect_, and she's never going to go away like the rest of us…like Shawn or Zach or my Mom…she's never going to be just _ripped_ away from you!" Her hands gesture wildly between them fingers wrench through the air like claws angry tears tracking down her cheeks.

"You get your perfect fucking happy ending with her!" Her face falls, the anger washing from it in a single split second, her lip trembling eyes hauntingly washed of color with her pain almost dove grey against her porcelain skin the only color left in her face the splotches of pink against her cheekbones from her tears. "_It was supposed to be_ _mine_…" Her voice trembles, has gone very small with defeat cracking on her last words. "_You_ we're supposed to be _mine.._."

"Beth," He's totally out of his league. No fucking clue what to say to make this right; he doesn't think it can be…

"Bethany Madeline Greene," Maggie's sharp voice brings them both up short. Beth goes very still in front of him at hearing her name. Her eyes dropping to the floor in front of her feet, shoulders hunching forward with silent sobs she hides behind both hands.

"Daryl, I'd like to have a word with my sister," Maggie is moving toward them, voice softer as she takes in her younger sisters visibly deflating form. "In private."

Daryl turns and leaves, all but flying towards the stairs not sure if he should go find Glenn before those two kill each other or just find someplace quiet to hide and think.

Maggie's soft spoken, "I'm _so sorry_. I had no idea you were going through so much." And Beth's echoing sobs now muffled into her sister's shirt decide for him.

Hide and think it is.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

It's several hours later before Maggie finds him alone on the rooftop. He left Seraphim downstairs with Mika and Carl, Carol eager to spend time with her as well was happy to let him take her turn at watch, usually a mere formality with the Walkers protecting the warehouse and their remote location…other than Chris and Luke who Fin told where they were located they've yet to have a single human visitor. He needed the space, the wide open sky and the quiet to think. His insides still twisted up with guilt over a crush he can do nothing about—didn't realize he was encouraging just by trying to be nice.

He turns hearing her soft footfalls; surprised for a moment to find his company is Maggie and not Seraphim. He watches as she moves to sit beside him; Glenn nowhere in sight oddly. He turns back to the empty lot below them when she's seated beside him.

"You here to kill me?"

Maggie smiles without humor. Red rimmed eyes watching the rolling clouds for a moment in the late afternoon sun. "Not your damn fault," she finally speaks. "I shoulda known." She pauses face pinching looking physically pained.

"You alright?" He can't help but notice her hand pressed over her abdomen, after a conversation like that…

Maggie glances at him, following his gaze seeming to realize for the first time her hand is absentmindedly pressed over her still mostly flat stomach. "Yeah, it's not this," She waves a generalizing hand at her abdomen sighing. "It's all that." She waves the same hand over her shoulder. "I feel like I should be apologizing to you." She admits after a quiet moment staring down at the pavement below their perch.

"What the Hell for?"

"I knew she had a crush, even back at the farm…I just; I thought it went away after the farm; and the prison…Dad…" she inhales slowly looking lost. "I didn't realize it was this bad, she built this whole fantasy in her head…" she trails off breath huffing out shoulders collapsing.

"Feel like I've done something awful." He admits quietly trying to identify the crawly sick feeling twisting through his insides after her words. Maggie shakes her head turning towards him again. "No, you didn't do anything wrong Daryl. I screwed up. Hell, Dad screwed up. Beth was right about that. I've been so wrapped up in Glenn I forgot what this must be like for her—and my Dad. He was so busy teaching Rick and Carol those last few months, spending time with the council trying to make sure that he passed on as much of his knowledge as possible; he kind of forgot her too. And I'm not going to make excuses for her—but she's always been the baby. Beth was always Mom and Daddy's little girl. Hell when I was fourteen I already knew what sex was; I already knew wearing tight jeans and wiggling just a little when I walked made guy's mouths fall open; made me feel powerful watching grown men tripping all over themselves staring at my ass. I used it to get what I wanted."

Daryl frowns.

"My point is," Maggie continues noting his discomfort. "When Beth was seventeen she was still braiding up her hair with ribbons and giggling about holding Jimmy's hand behind my father's back—and I don't know when that changed."

"She really sleep with Chris when he was here?"

Maggie nods slowly. "Yeah, I don't know if it was her idea or his; but apparently it happened more than once."

He curses and Maggie shakes her head. "I didn't even know what Chris had done to Fin until after what happened with the door…after they left Rick told us he attacked Fin after she rejected him…I wanted to punch the shit out of him." She purses her lips at the sky eyes narrowing. "Now I wish I'd shot his ass."

Daryl grunts his assent, it's not the first time he's wished he'd done just that. They're silent for a few moments. "Hell do we do now?"

"Not sure, but it starts with me paying more attention to my sister. I can't believe she thought I was going to dump my baby on her…" Maggie's arms close reflexively over her middle answering his unspoken question of just how long she was standing there before she spoke up. "And Judith…I thought she liked taking care of her—she's always liked babies and kids, and I would have helped her more…but it just…it reminded me of Lori; and what happened…" she swallows, not quite tearing up—but almost before pulling in a slow steadying breath. "Stupid hormones," she mutters looking away and swiping at overly wet eyes.

"What should I do?"

"Nothing, She fell in love with a fantasy. Lots of girls do that." Maggie shakes her head. "it's just most of them are in High School and it's usually the captain of the Football team. They get their hearts broken when he asks out the head cheerleader and they get over it." She shrugs one shoulder grinning at him suddenly. "You better learn this stuff; house bet is you and Fin pop out your own lil' Asskicker soon and all the money's on it being a girl."

"Who the Hell started that shit?" He grumbles fidgeting uncomfortably.

Maggie grins wider. "Carol."

"And here I thought she liked me."

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**

* * *

It's late, well past nightfall when Tyreese takes over watch with a curt nod. He's a little surprised when he climbs down the ladder to the main floor that Rick and Michonne are still up though it's well past ten by his count. Carol is with them Maggie and Beth too. The later is tucked under one of her sister's arms refusing to look at him, her eyes fixed to the fire pit lighting the majority of the space around the group. Daryl shifts his weight uncomfortably eager to leave, guilt and a twisting unease sliding through his gut in her presence after her outburst earlier, her words still too fresh in his mind.

"Carl still downstairs?" He was when Daryl left for watch keeping Seraphim and Mika company.

Rick nods, "Yeah you'll probably have to kick him out; they've been inseparable for hours. Send him back up here he should be in bed anyway."

"They were playing cards when I left." Carol tells him, "I'll be down in just and minute and grab Mika, she should have been in bed hours ago. We were just discussing whether it would be possible to build stairs."

"Stairs?"

"Yeah, it's gonna be awful hard to carry another baby up and down the ladders," Rick fills him in. "I'm pretty sure we can come up with something on the inside here," Rick waves his hand toward the center of their square space. "Build some kind of staircase so we can all get around here easier, should have tried it before now. Don't know why we didn't think of it. We're pretty handy, think we can work that out?"

"Yeah sure," he shrugs. "Talk about it tomorrow?" Rick is always eager for a project.

Rick nods grinning at him. "Yeah, get out of here,"

He turns to the ladder quickly making his way down the three floors to the lowest level, crossing through the back room to reach the hallway leading to their room. He stops just inside the entryway still created with a tall wall of boxes near the far end of the hall. Carl and Mika are still there, but they're all asleep. The little blonde's head is tucked under Seraphim's chin. Carl's flat on his back his shoulder close enough to press to Fin's back; one of his arms flung over his eyes playing cards still somehow grasped in his hand even sound asleep. Carl is snoring softly.

Daryl frowns, he'll have to wake them up; get them off to their own beds. Footsteps in the hallway behind him draw his attention. Carol coming to collect Mika obviously. "There's a blonde and a brunette that don't belong in my bed." He grumbles.

Carol just shakes her head. "Better get used to it, another year or two and you'll have kids in your bed every night."

He scowls, eyes narrowing as she stops next to him crossing her arms and taking in the three sleeping figures.

Daryl crosses his arms as well. "This have sumthin' to do with that bet I keep hearing about?"

Carol grins at him. "What? Don't look at me like that, sound travels you know; not like you guys are exactly quiet down here. I'm surprised you haven't knocked her up already."

Daryl nearly chokes, sputtering, "The Hell—"

"Oh relax! What else are we supposed to all talk about? You can only place so many bets on where Maggie and Glenn will get busted next..." She grins wider taking in his expression. "There may or may not be a bet on where you two get caught next…"

Daryl scowl darkens further. "One time. Whole Damn family gossips like old women. People are a pain in my ass. You need a new damn hobby." he grumbles.

"Yeah well, this pain in the ass has four shifts of overnight watch riding on you two popping out a little Asskicker in the next few months," Carol smacks him on the shoulder ignoring his flinch. "So get cracking."

Carl stirs sitting up. "Shit, what time is it?"

"'S Time to get your ass upstairs, and outta my bed." Daryl growls. Carl grins at him gets up slowly completely indifferent by Daryl's tone. To think there was a time when the kid would have scattered the second he looked at him.

Carl stretches circling the bed to tap Mika on the shoulder. "Meeks? Let's go Daryl's back." The little blonde rolls over waking up Seraphim who sits up at the same time yawning. Mika crawls out of bed rubbing her eyes still looking half asleep. Carl starts escorting her down the hall with one hand on her shoulder, "but the playing cards…" she mumbles passing by him.

"We'll get them later," Carol assures her winking one more time at Daryl and following the other two down the hallway.

"Hell was that all 'bout?"

"Go fish," She says, gathering up the few spilled cards and tucking them back into the thin box before placing it on the egg crate that serves as a nightstand.

He scowls. "Go fish where?"

She snorts. "No Daryl, 'Go Fish'; it's a card game." She's shaking her head at him. "I'm surprised you took watch the first night we got back." He frowns. "What is it?"

"Nuthin, I just—had an awkward run in with Beth earlier."

"Beth?" She frowns. "Is she okay?"

He's not sure how to answer that. "I don't know, Maggie talked to her."

She's staring at him, silent for a long moment. "Is it about me?"

_Not exactly._ She's watching his expression, bites her lip looking down at the bed spread twisting it in her hands. "I knew it; I told you not everyone would be okay with me coming back. Daryl I'm a _freak_." She pulls her knees up and tucks her head down wrapping her arms around her shins.

"It's not that," He flops down on the bed exhausted laying back. "She's pissed off at _me_."

"Because you brought me back here." She mumbles voice muffled by her legs.

"No Because the girl likes me." There he's said it. He waits, almost holding his breath. She lifts her head turning to stare down at him.

"She's pissed off at you because she likes you?"

He huffs staring at the ceiling, guilt clawing through him once more. "I was nice to her, and she got the wrong idea."

"So she hates me because she's jealous, and she's pissed at you for not picking her."

"Hell, Girl's only Nineteen! She was like Mika an' Carl when I met her a child! It aint like that! Never been like that."

She blinks staring down at him. "Wait, You don't think _I'm_ upset do you?"

"You're not?"

"She's young, and you're…memorable," Her lips twist up. "I can see how she could have a crush on you." She grins suddenly. "I seem to remember a certain gruff redneck telling me 'there weren't many girls left' when I was dealing with a similar situation, same could be said for good men."

Daryl snorts. "Shit, Carl wasn't the one with the crush problem; I was."

"Even back then?" She leans over him, so close he can feel her lips twist up into a grin, her breath tickles across his chin sliding down his neck like the warmth spreading through his chest.

"From the moment I laid my damn eyes on you in the woods." His fingers curl against the back of her neck pulling her down to kiss. She pulls back a few moments later curling up against his side one hand pressed to his chest over his heart.

"Try not to tear yourself up about Beth," She pats his chest. "She's young, and she has a lot to deal with; can't blame her for wanting something good too, fixating on it. I can't imagine being her age and living like this." She shakes her head against his chest. "Try not to let it get to you, you shouldn't feel guilty for being happy."

"I don't…Not exactly." He clenches his jaw staring up at the darkness over their heads.

"I know," she turns tighter against his side. "I get it, but there isn't really anything else you _can_ do. Hopefully time passes and she can move on, heal." She pauses for a moment. "I mean unless you want to leave me to be with her."

He snorts. Turning to wrap his arm around her pulling her tight against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. "Only been a few days, _Wife_. You already trying to get rid of me?"

She shakes her head against his chest. "You _wish_; you're stuck with me for life. However long or short that might be; I'm not going anywhere." His arms tighten reflexively around her back dipping his head to breathe her into his lungs. The soft familiar scent of vanilla and alluring spices wrapped around him like a cloud. She sighs against his chest mumbling right before she falls asleep. "an' tomorrow…we have to find out exactly what this _bet_ is I keep hearing about…"

_That'll be an interesting conversation,_ he thinks closing his eyes ready to fall asleep.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


	27. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em

**Notes: **_Huge thanks to all the readers and reviewers! You guys are great, and make all the effort of writing this insanity worth it. _

_And an apology to Fin, this is where it all changes and it's going to suck girlfriend. But it will all be worth it in the end! _

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

_(Fin's POV)_

* * *

"You ready guys?" Carl and Mika both look up from where they're waiting near the half-wall.

"Daryl's not going with us?" Carl frowns.

"He's trying to get the staircase secured with Rick and Ty and Glenn. They've got their hands full; besides we're not going that far, it should be fine." It's not like we had to worry about Walkers since we were going looking for them. Mika needed practice, and Carl insisted on trying again with me to help him.

Not that it seemed to be doing anything, it was looking more and more like Mika was a onetime deal; maybe even like this before Lizzie and nobody realized. Though the still cynical corner of my brain doubted that theory.

"Are you feeling alright? Today?" Mika is staring at me a little wide eyed, Carl glances at me with a different expression.

"I'm fine, just tired." I wave them toward the other side of the lot.

"No bow?" Carl glances at my empty hands.

"I snapped the string yesterday in practice, haven't gotten it restrung yet." Daryl was supposed to do it since he lost the last bet, something he was still trying to weasel his way out of, I stare down at my boots as we walk pushing away a grin. Like that was going to work.

"We're not driving today?" Mika asks.

"Nope," I concentrate for a moment. "Should only have to go a little ways, can you tell me in what direction?"

Mika stops walking eyes pressed shut tight enough to crinkle the corners. "That way?" She looks to me for confirmation. I nod and she beams at Carl. "Awesome."

"That's my line," Carl rolls his eyes.

We walk and then we jog, and then we walk some more until we've left the lot behind cut through the woods and almost made it to the highway on the far side when we find two Walkers stumbling down a narrow stretch of iron tracks beamed with ancient timbers of thick wood long overgrown.

"Are these train tracks?" Carl asks paying more attention to the metal stretching through the woods off around a bend and out of site.

"Yup, Mika let's see what you can do."

I'm sweaty and tired, Mika winces and the Walker in front of her takes a swipe at her before Carl dives in from the side plunging his knife into its head and taking it down before putting it away again in a well-practiced motion.

"I could have gotten it," She says quietly, but she's panting just a little bit.

"Headache?"

She nods wincing up at me then her eyes go wide and all the blood washes from her normally pink cheeks.

"Well, Aint this a peach? Look at this something for everyone!" A man's voice rings out sending my heart right into my throat. Carl spins.

"Mika get behind me." Carl is grabbing her wrists shoving her behind him hand moving towards his knife again.

"Whoa there little fella, no call for that; we just wanna chat." He holds his hands up palms out towards the men moving to surround us; they don't lower their weapons despite his request to talk. A lot of weapons, a compound bow, several shot guns; a few automatic assault rifles…they're _not_ here to talk. They plan to _take_. Rape and kill based on the shared expression on their cruel faces…and not necessarily in that order.

"Cut the bullshit, why don't you go your way, and we'll go ours and everyone lives."

Carl is moving Mika closer to me, pinning her between us against my back watching the men behind me that I can't see…but I can feel them: their greedy eyes, cruel intentions.

Most of them are watching me and Mika; except for one…an overweight disgusting pig of a man with brown hair greasy and limp hanging around his face; he's not watching me or Mika…He's staring at Carl from the grey haired man's right with a predatory look in his eyes and a sick twisted half giddy smile on his lips that matches the others and if I had any doubt what kind of monsters we've been found by its long gone now.

I am suddenly infinitely grateful that Daryl and Rick did not come with us today. If they had I've no doubt they'd have been shot before the grey haired man ever said a thing. Monsters do not like to fight fair, and they don't care about destroying anything that gets in their way.

"Now, Now; no one said anything about killing anybody; it's awful lonely out here; we just want a little company."

_I'll bet. _"Last warning to you and your buddies; and tell your filthy pedophile friend to get his degenerate eyes back in his head or I'm going to gouge them out."

The grey hair man looks taken aback for a second, eyes glancing to the man beside him who's still watching Carl. Carl who's grip has tightened on Mika pushing her further against my back because he thinks I'm talking about her…

He shrugs one shoulder up shaking greasy grey locks out of his eyes. "I'll admit some of my men have a taste for the exotic; but can't fault him for that really…not when it's so rare these days to find something so…." His eyes move over me making my stomach twist in revulsion. "—_Sweet_. Let's all be reasonable about this and we'll leave you alive; and that's about the most generous offer I've made in weeks. Turns out I'm in a good mood." Grey hair smirks at me.

"Counter offer Thirteen; you walk away right now or you all die. I'm feeling generous as well." I wasn't. I was tired and trying not to shake and praying to God they get their decaying asses over here in the next few minutes.

The laughter is predictable if overly riotous.

"What are you gonna do Red? Tongue lash us to death?" They laugh again, appropriately trained to feed the ego of their leader. Grey hair stares at me, "What's this Thirteen business, is that supposed to mean something?"

"She's giving us numbers, who gets to be first Dollface?" One of the guys with an assault rifle licks his lips sneers at me from my right.

I raise my hand point slowly counting them off turning slightly as I go. "Ten, Eleven, you'll be fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, eighteen and seventeen."

"Obviously we're missing something here, care to explain 'cause my patience is wearing a little thin."

"Well, if there was simply one or two of you everyone gets to live; assuming you don't piss me off too much beforehand." I narrow my eyes at him, _too late for that_. I'd see these degenerate fucks went straight to Hell if I had to escort them to the damn gates myself. Stop them from hurting anyone else; like I should have with the Peacocks so long ago.

"Three or four," I continue, "I put you down on the ground and I get to be less careful because I'm outnumbered. The chance someone gets hurt goes up. Five or six? Someone really gets hurt, because I can't take the risk you'll get to me first."

I let my eyes drift over their circle before turning my gaze back to grey hair. "This many? When I put you down, you'll stay there." …and when they _did_ get back up I'd make sure they were _Mine_.

"So you're going to kill us all?" He looks impressed, leans away from me hands raised in mock congratulations.

"Hey, I didn't get a number." One of them points out. "Guess that means I get to live!"

"I didn't say that. You don't get a number because I'm not going to kill you," I jab my thumb over my shoulder at one of the guys behind me that I can't see. "He is." I drop my chin to my chest, let them mistake it for nervousness…I am nervous, afraid I won't be able to get Carl and Mika out of here alive. But my action isn't. I cast my eyes around on the ground searching for anything I can use. There's a rock the near my boot, it's not much, but it's something he won't expect. I shift my weight closer to the rock.

Hell of a time to not have my bow, or Carl's. Barely a mile from home, after three years I hardly expected to find such a threat in my own backyard. You'd think past experiences would have taught me better.

They're laughing again. They won't be very soon.

They're getting closer.

Mika tenses against my back. She can feel them too. _Good._

"Fin…" She whispers it barely audible in the breeze. I reach my hand back to clasp her forearm squeezing briefly before letting go. I will need both my hands for this.

Grey hair starts to step closer to me.

_I need more time._ "No wait, I was wrong…he's fourteen…your fifteen."

"Only thing you're killing Red, is my patience."

"Carl?"

Mika tenses against my back.

"Cover Mika." I don't wait for him to reply.

Walkers burst through the trees to our right, five of them moving fast—faster than they should; half the men turn to take on this new threat at the same time I kick my foot out at the softball sized rock near my boot. Send it sailing through the air; it misses grey hair's face; hits him in the collar bone hard enough that I hear the impact. And I'm already rushing forward knife hilt in my hand leaping to grey hair's shoulders bracing my forearms against his collars, both hands gripping the side of his head as I flip up and over avoiding the clumsy swipe the other man aims at me. I drag him up and over twisting his head back at an impossible angle coming down behind him on one knee my grip tightening even as he screams driving his neck down over my thigh snapping his spine with the blunt force of my momentum and the gravity of his own weight.

The man to his left hesitates in obvious disbelieve just long enough for me to throw my knife; bury it in his throat. I shove their now dead leader away from me turn to see Carl shoving Mika around him pressing her back between the trees his knife in his hand with two Walker's moving alongside them for cover Mika's tiny face pinched in intense concentration a trickle of bright red blood dripping down from her nose to her chin.

"That's two Red, now we're gonna kill you."

I straighten up. "I'm not done yet."

He fires at the same time I dive behind a moving Walker I wait behind him for his rifle to fire and click. He curses and I move pressing my advantage even as he grabs his knife tries to slash at me misses with his clumsy swipe. I step in close, ram my elbow into his throat driving him back; sending him off balance. A harsh sound squeezed through his almost crushed windpipe, a warbled barely audible croak. I spin grab his hand while he's stunned into submission and drive his arm down stabbing him in the thigh with his own weapon before shoving him away to bleed out having wrenched the knife with a strangled thready scream out of his own artery. A Walker falls on him ending his terror far too soon for the crimes I've no doubt he's previously committed.

A bullet kicks up dirt just where I was about to be and I slam to a stop, twist to see two riffles aimed at me.

"Don't fucking move!"

I look past them to grey hair and his buddy lying still on the ground just a few feet behind them…twitching.

"I don't have to, I'm not going to kill you remember?"

"Neither is Len, he's dead."

I grin at him, winking. "_Exactly_."

His eyes go wide suddenly hearing the shuffling steps behind him he tries to turn but it's too late. Len grabs him from behind and rips out his throat. Guy number two screams in horror turning and firing at the second Walker who used to be their leader now up and stumbling towards him hands outstretched with a snarling moan.

He manages to hit him in the chest; his aim completely off in his frantic state…and he's turned away from me now distracted. I rush forward and leap planting my foot in the center of his back shoving him into the dead leaders waiting grasp. The gun spits out rounds rapid fire in a panicked succession against the Walker and the trees as he falls, gets his face torn into.

I have a split second to savor the victory, the fact that I'm miraculously still alive when Mika screams. The sound crashes through my chest, slides down my spine like ice water prickling and burning all along my skin. I spin and bolt through the woods, moving toward the sound.

I find them both on the road trapped between two gunmen Mika gripping Carl's arm blood seeping between her fingers; already coating her hands.

"No!"

Good thing they view me as the bigger threat. Carl kicks the knee out from behind the gunmen in front of him as he spins to face me gun raised his shot goes wide as he hits the pavement on one knee cursing trying to aim his second shot before Carl's knife rams home the tip piercing the skin just over the hollow in his throat his mouth opens but no sound comes out, dark red blood leaks from the corners of his mouth, blooms around the tip of Carl's knife soaking into the front of his shirt. He collapses to the ground eyes wide twitching.

The roaring of a large heavy engine reaches my ears. _Shit reinforcements, no time to get away. We're dead_.

"Mika! Run _Now!_" Carl barks sending her fleeing alone into the trees.

We're at least a mile from home, she'll never make it in time to help us, but at least she'll be safe, as long as we can keep them busy long enough for her to escape.

Carl's gun goes off. Cracks through the air sending one of the remaining men still standing to the pavement when he tries to follow her.

I use the sound distracting the others to fling my knife charging the other two the second the hilt has left my fingertips; no time to see if I've aimed well.

The truck stops and both the doors open at the same time. It draws the attention of the other two men who shift to see the approaching military truck right as the dark haired passenger leans out the window firing her automatic weapon and sending them both to pavement in a shower of blood.

_Not on the same team then. We might still live. _One of the biggest men I've ever seen climbs out of the driver side; the sunlight glints off his close cropped hair turning it a bright almost comical red-orange.

"Nice skills," He shoves an unlit cigar into his mouth while I try to angle Carl behind me; I stop when the woman who took out our other two attackers levels her assault rifle at us.

"Don't move." Her voice is accented, low and calm.

I pause, shifting my gaze to stare back at the red head; knowing without a doubt he's in charge of this small group, even without the dark haired woman's eyes flicking to him before slowly circling around us. Carl shifts beside me, trying to watch her.

"You save our lives just to shoot us?" I stare at him.

"I have a proposal for you, we could use a person with your particular skill set; how'd you like to help us save the world?"

"I'm all out of patience for delusions of grandeur after the last group. Thanks, but no thanks."

"Well I'm not really asking," He shakes his gun barrel at me. "We need numbers, we need fighters: Get in the truck."

If they need fighters they need us _alive_. "Only if you let the boy go."

Carl goes very still beside me. "I'm _not_ leaving you." His tone so like his father's it brooks no argument.

The mountain of a redhead frowns eyeing Carl silently for a moment, assessing. "Nah, boy can shoot, he can come too."

"Where we going?" I need to stall for time; even though I know there isn't any way that Mika could possibly run home and make it back before they force us into their truck; and a truck on hard pavement is impossible to track, even for Daryl. They'll get here and find nothing but dead bodies, and blood.

He chews his cigar for a moment grin spreading under his ridiculous mustache.

"Washington DC, we're on a mission to save the world."

Then the woman behind me smashes her rifle butt into my head because the world burst out of focus spinning with a flash of pain on the back of my skull and Carl yells something vulgar while a shotgun racks.

I can only pray he doesn't get himself shot as I hit the pavement.


	28. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: **Don't own 'em

**Notes: **_Super thanks to you guys for your patience! The second half of this story is pretty heavy/tricky stuff to get right, I hope I can pull it off!_

I know it's been entirely too long since an update here! and this is a short chapter but hang in there please! I think you'll like it anyway...I hope. And don't worry I'm planning to give you Daryl's POV for this time frame too. I just really needed to get this out of the way to get that written since both Fin and my Muse ganged up on me and threatened bodily harm if I didn't get this over with! They're a scary combination together I tell ya!

Thank you all for the continued support/follows/faves and reviews! You guys rock!

**Thanks:** To NRIASB for pointing out my misspelling of Rosita's name! It's fixed now Oops, My bad guys! :O

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**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

(Fin's POV)

* * *

I wake to a throbbing ache in my shoulder, just like yesterday…all along my left arm lines of pain formed where the creases in the hard bed of the truck has been digging into my skin.

My muscles protest as I sit up, ache and pull my elbow bent too long in one position trying to cushion my head on something other than cold hard metal. My wrists twinge with pain where the zip ties have chaffed the sensitive skin; rubbing too long over the same spot repeatedly. I roll my hands trying to alleviate some of the pins and needles moving through my fingers with only moderate success and shift my weight, pushing my legs out in front of me. I'm beyond sick of this prisoner treatment shtick, but with no weapons to my name and Carl to keep safe I'm learning to deal with the annoyance day by day. I just need an opening, something to allow me to get Carl free so we can slip away. To hell with this asshole, his pervert-mullet sidekick and girlfriend.

"Hell you doing awake?" I can make out the hard lines of his crew cut in the darkness of the truck bed; leaned against the edge of the opened tailgate; legs splayed out across the open space; effectively blocking us in—like the heavy automatic gun in his lap doesn't do the same.

The dark distinctive outline of his assault rifle clearly visible even by moonlight it seems is always in his hands, it sits draped across his lap causally with the kind of relaxed ease most people would allow a cellphone or TV remote. Not that I doubted his military training before this, every line in his body; hard edge of his face screams of military discipline and precision; training and tactical expertise. But this casual air with such a weapon tells me something else; Abraham's seen more than the inside of a training facility; He's seen action, lots of it; and lived to tell the tale. He's the kind of man who forges his metal in the fires of hell and labels it later simply all in a day's work.

He shifts against the metal edge of the truck's bed wall. "I said, what the hell are you doin up?

"I have to pee." It's true; it's why I woke.

"You already been, twice." He dismisses my request. And while that's also true it doesn't change the fact that I have to go.

"You either let me pee or I'll go right here in the back of the truck." It's only a _slight_ exaggeration, which is odd since I haven't had that much to drink today.

He scowls at me around his thick mustache in the dark, jaw tightening lips puckering over something that will probably come out ugly and harsh another voice cuts him off before he gets a chance.

"I'll take her." Rosita sits up near the side of the truck, no longer sleeping. He doesn't turn his head or acknowledge her for a moment, still staring at me in the dark, the moonlight adding a strange orange hue to his bright red flat-top.

"She's been enough,"

"Well I also have to go, so either I can take her with me or she can go right here. Choice is yours." Abraham grumbles but kicks his legs over the side of the open gate dropping down to the road side in the darkness.

"Come on, I will help you up." Rosita grabs my forearm—not my raw wrist thankfully and helps me shuffle towards the edge of the truck bed. Carl's head jerks up when we move past him.

"What's going on?"

"It's okay, go back to sleep; just a bathroom break." He frowns at me, the moonlight illuminating his pale face against the dark green-grey interior of the truck beneath him.

"I'll go too."

"Hell you will; this is a bathroom break not a social outing; and it aint turning into a jailbreak either. She goes; you can use a tire if you have to piss."

Carl frown deepens, he shifts again sitting up to stare at me as Rosita helps me down the short distance from the tailgate to the pavement so dark it looks like I'm leaping off the truck's end into a deep pit of nothing.

He glares at Abraham standing up when he steps closer to us looking so like his father for a moment and his snarl sounding so like _Daryl _that even I stop and stare at him. "She's not going out there alone with you, how do I know you're not going to do something to her?!" He's glaring at Abraham over the tailgate, looks ready to tackle him if he takes another step towards me; weaponless or not.

Abraham is watching him, eyes darting to me for a moment. "Keep your shorts on kid, Rosita's taking her."

"I'll be fine Carl," I catch his eyes in the moonlight tell him dramatically; "I'll be right back."

Carl shakes his head slowly, lips twisted into a scowl while letting me know he caught my horror movie reference. "You'd _better_." He sits down on the tailgate to wait it out.

Rosita leads the way towards the grassy edge of the highway; planning to take us once more just a little ways into the woods like last time so we can pee without watchful eyes. Abraham might not look, but Eugene is another story. Eugene strikes me as the kind of creep who'd attach a mirror to his shoes hoping to catch a glimpse up a girls skirt on the street.

"You're not getting any water tomorrow either; I've had enough of this shit." Abraham calls over the road to our backs, shaking his head and cursing something about small bladders being beaten out of people in Basic.

"He's a real charmer." I walk carefully behind Rosetta's back, trying not to trip over anything unseen in the darkness especially with my hands bound—there'd be little hope of catching myself before I landed on my face. I don't need Carl getting killed attacking Abraham because I caught my toe on a tree root in the dark.

"He has his moments."

I bet snake charmers say the same thing about cobras. I scowl harder.

"I know that you don't want to be here, but if you could just try to see where he is coming from…"

"You kidnapped us, how exactly do you expect me to slap rose colored glasses on that?" I stare at the back of her head hard.

Rosita pauses a few steps in front of me, both hands rested on her hips over her guns.

"I know that, and I am sorry; for what it's worth. But you have to understand how important this is—not just to Abraham, but to everyone."

"Yeah well…I don't enjoy being kidnapped. He could have asked—we have a family; a whole group. After you guys helped kill those jerks on the road maybe if he'd taken a minute to explain what was going on instead of you bashing me over the head then maybe we could have worked something out. I'm not feeling real helpful at the moment; mission or not I wouldn't shed a tear if all of you got eaten."

The only reason I haven't let that happen yet is because I don't know what this Eugene might actually know…if he really knows how to make a cure and they get him to Winchester—I tamp down quickly on the tiny flutter of hope, I will not believe in miracles. I started to believe in happy endings just a few short days ago and now I'm zip tied on a darkened country road with a Ginger General, a nerdy pervert and a Spanish prison guard.

She sighs. "I'm not making excuses for his actions,"

"No you just go along with them."

She frowns, continues walking shaking her head, her short dark ponytail bobbing behind her in the moonlight. "It is difficult to rein Abraham in when he is on a mission; he becomes…overzealous."

She stops again, turns away from me a bit, shifting on her boots watching the darkness.

I know there are no Walkers out here. Not for at least a mile; and moving in the wrong direction…

"Do you need help with your pants?"

"It would be a Hell of a lot easier without zip ties on."

She frowns. "I am not removing them, I saw you on that road as well and don't pretend you needed us to take out those men—you were doing a damn good job of that on your own. It's why Abraham took you."

"Remind me to send him a thank you card." And despite our conversation I really do have to pee, badly. I fumble with my buckle, and then my pants, have to work them slowly; inching down one hip and then the other so I don't drop them in the dark. It's awkward and exposes me to the cool night air for far too long—I don't want to be grateful to her for anything; but being far away from prying eyes while I have to brace my back against a tree and pee in the dark is only possible because she was willing to bring me out here…again.

It takes me even longer to get my pants back up, to fumble with the closures with my hands so close together; my wrists are throbbing and my fingers tingle from the tight plastic strip digging at my skin. I eventually manage to pull myself back together.

Rosita is still watching the darkness offering me privacy.

"Don't you have to go?"

She turns to me, "No, but I didn't want you to suffer for Abraham's poor temper."

I won't thank her; she's still a kidnapper.

We start back toward the truck; with me in front this time; leading the way by silent agreement. The breeze picks up through the trees carrying with it the soft scent of something blooming nearby. It tickles the back of my nose for a moment. I sneeze. Then stop dead whole body overwhelmed with a flash of alarm that sends pins and needles rocketing up my spine breaking my entire body out in a cold sweat.

_What the Fuck?!_

"Why are you stopped? Do you need to sneeze again?" Rosita is standing just to my right now. She takes in something in my expression and jerks her gaze back to the trees around us in the darkness hands going to her weapons.

"What is it? What do you see?"

I can't answer her. I can't move. I'm not even sure I can breathe.

_Something just moved._

"Where?" Rosita turns studying the darkness between the trees spinning to check the other direction; and I guess I said that out loud…I can speak after all…

But it's not the darkness I'm worried about; it's the tiny flutter that's suddenly consuming my entire thought process; feeling something wiggling again under the press of my fingertips.

Rosita turns back to me, gun in both hands, eyes drawn to my fingers pressed bellow my navel. Neither of us speak for a moment and then I see it dawn on her; the rational explanation forming itself in her mind written plan as day in the apology across her face before it can take shape in mine—my head is still filled with too much white noise.

Not something…_someone_.

Rosita's expression is stricken with horror. "I'm sorry, we didn't know."

_Neither did I..._

_And, Oh God. __The test was wrong—it was wrong and he might never know now…_

I have to bite my lip to keep the white hot knife of agony centered in my chest twisting with each breath from working its way up my throat and out. _Daryl..._

"Can you walk? Are you in pain? You haven't eaten much…those men…" she trails off, face etched with real concern, the gravity of my situation weighing her down more than I'd expect from someone okay with kidnapping woman and young men off the side of the road with her crazy ex-military boyfriend on a regular basis. Apparently pregnant woman are a different story though.

Rosita has stepped closer to my side, weapon holstered once more my elbow firmly in her grasp. "Come on, we have to get back, there could be Geeks out here."

I stumble along beside her, too dumbstruck to even pick up my feet completely—too distracted my entire attention consumed with feeling for another flutter beneath my skin; wondering how I missed it…how far I have to be to startle him with a sneeze…

I slide my hands over my own skin; searching for an obvious bulge; some change in shape I overlooked…but I feel the same. My hipbones are still evident just slightly prominent before the flare of my hips; my stomach flat and taut no hint of an outward curve that I can find…my clothes fit the same…and it can't be right.

_It can't be, _I feel like I'm drowning, choking each time I try to drag in the night air._ To feel him move I'd have to be months already... _"You have to let me go back," I tell her voice shaking more then I care to admit. _I need Daryl, he has to know._

"You'll never make it," Rosita's voice is firm. "It's too far. We will figure something else out."

We make it back to the truck, my hands pressed to my own skin trembling the entire journey, equally desperate and terrified to feel that sensation again.

Rosita helps me back into the truck bed without another word to me or Abraham. I don't return to my previous spot; there's no way I could sleep now.

Carl is still sitting and waiting for my return, I manage to tell him to go to sleep; try to make sure my features are schooled into a calm mask hiding my discover until I know for sure…and even then I don't know how to tell him.

Carl told me how he lost his mother once—I already knew because Maggie told me; but she didn't mention at the time that Carl was there; that he watched—and worse. He was the one that put a bullet in her head so she wouldn't turn.

Now were out here alone—for all intents and purposes; miles from home. We might not make it back to our family, the realization sits once again in the pit of my stomach like a heavy stone. Abraham has already brought us what must be a hundred miles, we're already long out of Georgia…

What if something happens out here with these gun toting lunatics trying to save the world for free; no one does anything anymore unless it earns them something in return.

If I tell Carl I'm pregnant the first thing he'll do is think of losing his mother. Wondering if he'll have to watch me die in labor too, shoot me in the head leaving him all alone miles from home with a tiny baby in the woods…anxiety washes through me thinking of Judith's wide sky blue eyes and pudgy baby cheeks... _What if I don't make it?_

_Will my baby even be immune?_ I'm different from everyone else, what if he's not safe from Walkers, how will I even know? Even if Carl did make it back alone, he'd have to hand Daryl our son and tell him he has to raise him alone… the thought hurts so intensely I can't see, my head spins and I realize I need to breath.

I close my eyes tight over tears and sink down with my back to the cab instead of lying down, my knees pulled up to my chest head tucked low staring down at the narrow space between my thighs and my shirt in the low light. My head dizzy, spinning with a million thoughts. I stay that way feigning sleep so I don't have to talk to Eugene when he wakes occasionally; or speak to Abraham or even Rosita.

The minutes stretch on bleeding slowly into the last few hours before sunrise. Around me the others begin to stir; really wake starting to face the day but I remain quiet; keeping my face hidden so I can at least be alone with my thoughts.

The more time passes the more desperately I want to feel something again; some small part of Daryl tucked away safe inside me. Then finally with my eyes pressed tightly closed and my breathing once more even and slow feigning sleep I feel him move; just the tiniest wiggly nudge. My heart leaps before plummeting to my feet and tears burn my eyes.

The anguish of missing Daryl in this moment when I need him to know this, to hold me and tell me it's going to be okay grows more intense by the minute.

_I just want to go home_.

* * *

**:: Walking Dead ::**


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